


Sweet Children

by anastasiapullingteeth



Series: Sweet Children [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety Disorder, Excessive use of italics, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Multimedia, Non-Graphic Violence, Swearing, lots and lots of references to green day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1230613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastasiapullingteeth/pseuds/anastasiapullingteeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is the lead singer of the punk-rock band <em>Carpe Diem</em>. After a decade of success, the band is immersed in its worst streak, at risk of losing their contract. The solution: a tour of over 40 cities with the new musical sensation. How will Enjolras survive two months traveling around the country with the man who broke his heart eight years ago?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you hate/don’t like Green Day, probably shouldn’t read this…
> 
> Edit (june/2/2015): Thank you so much for the kudos and comments!! You're all awesome. This fic means a lot to me, so I'm incredibly happy you like/liked it too!! I made a face claim for this series, you can find it [here](http://anastasiapullingteeth.tumblr.com/tagged/rockbandau/chrono).
> 
> Thanks for the support, you're the best ever!

The day Valjean called an urgent meeting at the record label, Enjolras was late for the first time in his life.

First, his alarm didn’t go off on time. He’d fallen asleep over his laptop, writing an article on the degradation of music in the last decade and had forgotten to reset the clock. Then, he got stuck in traffic for over an hour thanks to a bunch of idiots who had closed the street in a rally against gay marriage. “They believe is their right, Enjolras.” Combeferre had said on the phone when he called to explain his predicament, “And I _know_  is my right to require them to go fuck themselves” Enjolras had replied through gritted teeth. No doubt he’d got up on the wrong side of the bed.

When he finally arrived to **ABC Music** an hour later, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Marius and Feuilly were already waiting in their manager’s office. Valjean was frowning and Enjolras couldn’t help thinking his bad luck wasn’t finished yet. He sat down quietly in a chair next to Combeferre and nodded to Valjean, indicating he could begin.

"How long we’ve been working together, boys?" Valjean asked in a fatherly tone after watching them. His eyes fixed on Enjolras, Courfeyrac and Combeferre. "Twelve years? I can’t believe that much time has passed since those three inexperienced boys approached me with a demo recorded in a garage and the hope to achieve a dream, willing to put both on my hands."

Valjean stood up and took a group photo from ten years ago, when neither Feuilly nor Marius were part of the band. He looked at it lovingly and said, “I believed in you just to hear you talk. Your love for music, your desire to convey a message, your courage, and your talent. Geniuses like you aren’t common in this business. And I feel really privileged to be the one who guided you on this trip.“

"Can I ask what this is all about, sir?"

Valjean resumed his place behind the desk and clasped his hands over his chest. “I’m afraid I have bad news.” _Great, now what?_ “ _Carpe Diem_ 's  numbers have plummeted. Your latest album is buried down at the bottom of the Billboard charts and, unless we do something soon, the label will not renew the contract.”

A heavy silence swept over the room. Enjolras had to admit he wasn’t expecting this. He knew their last album -the first with Feuilly and Marius as official members- hadn’t been well received, but didn’t think things were this bad. Apparently, the public had taken to heart the decision to become five members after more than ten years of being just Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac. The leader took a deep breath, hoping someone else asked the question he had stuck in his throat.

"Something like what?" Marius, blessed Marius, asked.

Valjean pulled a folder from his desk and handed it to Enjolras. “I spoke with a good friend of mine -well, she’s friends with my daughter, but that’s not the point… She’s the manager of a band that has caught the eye of the media.” The man beckoned Enjolras to open the folder. Inside were a few newspaper clippings and a replica of a poster advertising the tour of a band called _Sassafras Roots_ around the United States.

"It's a new band from Minnesota." Valjean continued. "They started not long ago, but their fame has already spread throughout the country. Éponine, the manager, invited us to tour with them for two months: 47 shows, 46 cities. And, since _Carpe Diem_ 's popularity has fallen to the point of being worrying, I think this is the best for everyone.”

"No." Enjolras replied without taking his eyes off the sheet he was holding in his hands. The headline read: " _Sassafras Roots’_ lead singer arrested for DUI”. The picture showed a young man with a thick mop of black curls covering his eyes; the only thing visible of his face was the cheeky smile.

"Enjolras…"

"No. Look at this," Enjolras raised the sheet. "This is the kind of person who only got into this for the fame and money. Rock isn’t about that. Rock is about the music, to rise against the oppressors; a way to express our disagreement with the situation around the world and help people see it, too. One great rock show can change the world, remember? This isn’t about getting loaded and being a jerk, I don’t want us to get involved with people like him."

"Enjolras, you need to understand. This is our last resort-"

"No!"

Combeferre placed a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder, forcing his best friend to look at him. “Enjolras, listen. Everyone here agrees with you. We decided to follow you years ago because we believe in every word you say, on and off stage.” He paused, allowing his words to fully sink into the blond's brain. “But I’m afraid we’ve to do this if we want our message to be heard… It's either this, or the dream is over, Enjolras.”

The leader choked on his own saliva. This couldn’t be the end, not after everything they had struggled. He put his hand over Combeferre’s on his shoulder and looked at Valjean.

"Okay, I guess…"

He didn’t want to do it, he really didn’t want to do it, but apparently there was no other choice.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras walked into Combeferre’s apartment like a tornado. He was furious and, even when he’d never admit it, a little scared. He was holding a sheet of paper in his hand, wrinkled by the hours spent squeezed between the blond’s fingers, with a single image printed on one side. Enjolras placed it unceremoniously opposite to Combeferre and began to pace the room.

Combeferre, who until then had been eating cereal in his kitchen bar, took the sheet and watched it with a frown as he listened to his best friend ranting.

"I can’t believe it! Of all the people around the world, it had to be him, _him_! I googled them, you know, and no, I mean… It’s him, ‘Ferre, is really him." Enjolras ran his hands through his curls and pulled at them slightly. "No… It’s been a long time, I-"

"Eight years, to be exact."

Enjolras sighed miserably and took the sheet of paper again. It was a picture of Sassafras Roots after an interview. The band consisted of five members: a big man on the left side with strong arms and muscles almost completely covered in tattoos; his head sported a mohawk and he had a piercing in his lower lip. Next to him was a very young man with copper-colored hair tied in a braid that fell below his shoulders; his eyes were a strange amber and he was grinning.

At the other end was a dark-skinned man with a hat he used sideways; he had a pierced nose and his shirt let see a tattoo on his chest with the letters ‘ _J and M_ ’ bonded with a stalk of rose. Beside him was a small man with honey-colored hair and piercings in the left ear; he was wrapping the other man around the shoulders and had a tattoo in the form of a human heart on the inside of the arm.

And there, right in the middle of the picture, was Grantaire. The same Grantaire from eight years ago. The man with hazel eyes who had kissed him backstage during his first tour, only to say later he was engaged to someone else. That man with who he’d go on a two-month tour across the United States, after eight years in which he'd tried to forget him.

 

* * *

 

**Minnesota, 2004. Eight years ago.**

Enjolras ran his fingers through the strings of ‘Red’ and watched the crowd: thousands of faces returning the gaze, singing with all their hearts for thousands of different reasons.

 

_Forget me nots, second thoughts,_  
_live in isolation,_  
_heads or tails, fairytales in my mind._  
_Are we we are, are we we are,_  
_the waiting, unknown._

 

Hazel eyes that looked particularly green under the intense sun of April watched from the front row. His owner looked directly at him, at Enjolras, and only him. When the blond sang the next verse, something in those eyes changed, and Enjolras could feel the connection between them.

 

_Rage and love, the story of my life,_  
_The things they say,  
is everything a lie _ _And screaming_

 

_~~~_

 

"This is my phone," hazel-eyes said at the end of the concert - _Grantaire_ , he’d told Enjolras in the autographs line, just before the blond asked him a few minutes to talk. “Call me when you can, I mean, since you’re very busy and, yeah-“

"You wrote your name wrong." Enjolras interrupted him, looking at the backstage pass in which Grantaire had written 10 digits and the word ‘Grantare _’_  below them.

"Did I?" he asked, snatching the paper back. "Fuck, that’s why I never write the whole thing." He crossed out his name and wrote something below before returning it to Enjolras with a slight blush on the cheeks. The blond took the pass and a smile touched his lips. 

_612-529-9639_  
~~Grantare~~  
R

The two looked at each other for a few seconds, not knowing what to say. Enjolras kept the backstage pass in the pocket of his worn-out jeans. “Tomorrow is our last show in Minnesota. Gonna be there, right?”

"Of course."

 

_~~~_

 

Grantaire was higher than Enjolras by a few inches, but that wouldn’t stop him. The blond sat on one of the boxes where they kept the equipment and wrapped Grantaire’s waist with his legs to pull him closer.

"Come with me." he whispered in his ear after biting his neck gently. "The hotel is very close to here."

Grantaire pulled away from him and held his waist; Enjolras couldn’t see his eyes through his black curls. “Yeah, uh, I have to go back… this girl is waiting for me… and I'm gonna meet her parents.”

"Wait." _Oh no, it couldn’t be…_ “You have a girlfriend?”

"Yeeeeaaaah… more like a fiancée?"

"You’re getting married?!" Enjolras pushed him away violently.

"Yeah, but-"

Enjolras jumped down the box, grabbed his jacket, and left the backstage without looking back. This was stupid. Grantaire was stupid. He’d been stupid.

 

* * *

 

**California, 2012.**

Enjolras took a box form the shelf of his closet where he kept all the memorabilia of the first concerts of _Carpe Diem_. He returned to his bed and emptied the contents of the box over the mattress. Almost everything was photos, concert tickets or receipts, but it wasn’t what he was looking for. He rummaged around twice, hoping to find it, but was unsuccessful.

In a fit of desperation, he kicked the box away and fell down on the mattress, without worrying about what was under his back. An hour later when he returned to his bedroom with a beer in hand and eyes irritated by cigarette smoke, Enjolras finally found it. He sat on the carpet a few inches from where the box had landed and reached out. There was Grantaire’s backstage pass, the numbers still clear and visible, but Enjolras focused on the lonely ‘R’ written under them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Are We The Waiting


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door opened and Grantaire went through it, smiling with his tongue between his teeth. His hair was longer than Enjolras remembered and a piercing shone from his right eyebrow, his arms were almost completely covered by tattoos and the buckle of his studded belt was on the left side, barely above Grantaire's hip bone. Enjolras felt a nudge from Courfeyrac in his ribs and closed his mouth; apparently, he'd been staring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!! Now, please check [this beautiful graphic](http://lifeofthewickedwitch.tumblr.com/post/79032471199/enjolras-is-the-lead-singer-of-the-punk-rock-band) my dear [Sami](http://lifeofthewickedwitch.tumblr.com/) made for me, it's so beautiful!

_**California, 2012** _

Valjean met Éponine in Minnesota the next week to discuss the details of the tour. Enjolras trusted him, so he decided to leave everything in his hands. And no, he wasn’t delaying the meeting with Grantaire, simply didn’t want to travel almost 2.000 miles on a Monday morning, thank you very much.

The thing ended up like this: they would travel to Bakersfield on April 15, to give the first concert on the 17th. _Carpe Diem_ would play first for about an hour and a half a set of 15 songs (if Combeferre’s calculations were correct), and then _Sassafras Roots_ would come out on stage. They’d play for a little over an hour, which meant, incredibly, 20 songs -how were they so short?-, calling an end to the concert. They wanted to include something with the two bands, at least one song, but forgot about it when they decided it wasn’t worth trying to accommodate two drum sets on stage, in addition to eight people.

Valjean suggested a meeting with all the members of both bands to introduce each other and, if possible, rehearse a song or two. Enjolras accepted with the only condition that it happened in California. ”To be our only ticket to salvation, you’re being a complete pain in the ass, Enj.” Courfeyrac had said with a smile. However, Éponine and the boys agreed immediately and in less than a week they already had _Sassafras Roots_ at full settled in  **ABC Music**.

Enjolras tapped his foot with some nervousness as he and Courfeyrac listened to the boy with copper colored hair -Jehan or Jean or something. The leader looked around: Valjean was talking to a woman with long, black hair very close to Combeferre and Feuilly, who were both laughing at something the man of the mohawk had said; farther away, by the door, Marius was talking to a bald man and one who had a slightly red nose because of a cold. Enjolras had to learn their names yet, but the meeting had not formally begun since there was still a missing person.

The door opened and Grantaire went through it, smiling with his tongue between his teeth. His hair was longer than Enjolras remembered and a piercing shone from his right eyebrow. His arms were almost completely covered by tattoos and the buckle of his studded belt was on the left side, barely above Grantaire’s hip bone. Enjolras felt a nudge from Courfeyrac in his ribs and he closed his mouth; he’d been staring, it seemed.

"I know, I know. Sorry, traffic’s hell around here."

"Well, now that we’re all here, we can begin."

Grantaire‘s eyes set on Enjolras -his face wore an expression that the blond couldn’t identify- and nodded briefly. The leader smiled sideways and tried to ignore the void in his stomach when Grantaire, instead of stopping at his side, walked over and stood beside the young man Enjolras had been talking to minutes ago. Grantaire hugged him by the shoulders and kissed his temple; Enjolras bowed his head.

"What were you expecting? He throwing himself into your arms?" Courfeyrac whispered, not really waiting for an answer.

"No, of course not," Enjolras said anyway, trying to convince himself it was true.

 

* * *

 

The boy with copper colored hair was Jean Prouvaire, but everyone called him Jehan and he’d insisted Enjolras and the rest of his band did, too. The guy with the mohawk -with who Feuilly had hit it off really well in just 10 minutes- was Bahorel and the other two were Joly and Bossuet, who apparently were in a relationship with a woman named Musichetta. That was more than the blond needed to know, but chose not to mention it. Just as Grantaire decided not to mention the woman he’d married eight years ago… not that Enjolras wanted to know that. He hadn’t talked to him, he couldn’t when the only thing that came to his mind was a recrimination. This was Grantaire’s fault, all of this; Enjolras hated him so much.

Valjean walked towards him, Combeferre and Courfeyrac, along with the woman Enjolras had seen before. She was very young, Enjolras could bet it was even younger than him, but her eyes had an intimidating glow and her steps were firm and steady.

"Guys, this is Éponine, the manager." Valjean said with both hands on the girl‘s shoulders. "A prodigy in the world of business, I might add."

"So don’t even try to fool me, I know my way around."

"I leave you to get acquainted."

"How old are you?" Courfeyrac asked, after saying goodbye to Valjean, waving his hand like a five year old.

"I turn 28 in late November."

"What?! You started directing bands before walking? What the hell."

"I’m a Thénardier."

"No shit. The Wolf of Montfermeil’s your father?"

"The same. Though, you’ve nothing to worry about, every business I do is legal."

"Our idea was to sign with his father," intervened Grantaire, approaching them and putting an arm around Éponine’s shoulders. "But after Thénardier fled the country, we had to settle with her."

"Shut up, you owe me a lot, Grantaire."

"And I‘m paying you with my body, remember?" Grantaire finished, winking an eye seductively.

Enjolras jumped slightly and his eyes widened. Without a word, he turned on his heels and walked over to where Feuilly was. He didn’t care what Grantaire did or didn’t do with Éponine. In any case, who should worry was his wife, not Enjolras. He felt a little sorry for the poor woman and wondered if Grantaire’d bring her with them on the tour. Enjolras hoped he wouldn't.

"Yeah, but why dress like that at every concert?" Bahorel was asking when Enjolras approached them, hugging his torso with one arm and waving his free hand in front of Feuilly. "I mean, the clothes might pass, perhaps. But _ties_?”

"This is a job, you should dress presentable at the office, even if said office it’s a stage in front of 15,000 people."

Bahorel laughed so loud and placed a hand on Enjolras's shoulder. He pointed at Feuilly still laughing, as if waiting for the blond to also laugh at the joke; it seemed he'd forgotten Enjolras was part of that band, too. The blond thought it best not to mention the ties had been his idea.

 

* * *

 

After that they embarked on a month-long promotion. Enjolras and Grantaire, as leaders of their respective bands, jointly attended more interviews than the blond could remember, the first in a famous radio station.

"Tell me, Enjolras. For you it must be a great honor to play with a band like _Sassafras Roots_ , isn't it?" asked Azelma Jondrette, the announcer.

"Excuse me?"

"Of course, after the failure that was _99 Revolutions_ , to have the opportunity to play with the new sensation of the moment-"

"Wow, wow, wow. Stop right there." Grantaire waved his hands, trying to get the girl's attention. "I think you’re a little confused there, Azelma. Honor is entirely ours." Enjolras looked at him with surprise. Had he heard it right? ”Yes, that's it. I mean, come on! They're a legend! Greatest band of all time. You should know we're fans. Like, the biggest fans. And to share the stage with them? Never in my wildest fantasies, and believe me, I’ve been _that_ high.“

Azelma smiled and changed the subject. At the end of the interview, Enjolras approached Grantaire with some suspicion. He didn't understand why he'd acted the way he did; literally, the future of _Carpe Diem_ was in their hands, why the fuck had he twisted the facts, making them look good? What was the point on _lying_?

"Grantaire?" The man turned around, but Enjolras noticed he was avoiding eye contact. "What was all that crap?"

"What?"

"What you said in there. She was right, you're doing us a fav-"

"No. You don't say that. Every word I said in there was the truth, okay? Nothing but the truth."

"But-"

"Just take it, okay? It is what it is."

Enjolras nodded. The more time he spent with Grantaire, the less he understood him.

 

_~~~_

 

Éponine and Valjean gathered them together one day to reveal the official tour poster. The central image showed a recorder with explosions of paint out the side speakers and the logos of both bands. The names were at the top, _Carp_ _e Diem_ in big, red letters filling the entire front. Below, in a smaller font, _Sassafras Roots_ in green.

Enjolras was about to protest the inequality of it all, when Jehan snatched the poster out of his hands and stared at it with huge eyes. ”It can't be, this is amazing!” He shouted, extending his arms to have a better look. ”Can I have one? I need to hang it in my bunk.“

"Sure, but perhaps you'll need a smaller version."

"While you’re at it, I want one too." Bahorel added, peeking over Jehan's shoulder. "Dude, it's super rad."

Enjolras had to correct his earlier statement: he didn't understand all that band.

 

_~~~_

 

The _Sweet Children Tour -_ as they'd decided to call it at Éponine and Courfeyrac's suggestion- was the most talked topic in social media over the following weeks. The eyes of the world fell on both sides, talking about how risky it could be for _Carpe Diem_  to play alongside ”the competition”, and how daring it'd been of _Sassafras Roots_  to agree to share a stage with such music legends.

The first interview and Grantaire's words were on everyone's mouths, generating positive reviews despite everything, and the expectation grew rapidly. Although, there was one thing in particular that made Enjolras lose his sleep, a person that had written the most horrible things about them: none other than the most terrible critic, Javert.

> _Will_ Carpe Diem _manage to resume its career, or is this a farewell tour? This reviewer hopes that the so-praised_ Sweet Children Tour _is just the beginning of the decay of bands like_ Carpe Diem _, which have dragged our teens into a world of drug addiction and laziness._

Enjolras would show that chump the world had not yet seen the best of his band: _Carpe Diem_ would be back soon and hitting hard.

 

* * *

 

On April 15, they gathered outside **ABC Music** to go out to the first stop: Bakersfield, California.

 _Sassafras Roots_ ' bus was already parked outside the record label and all the band members were helping to pack _Carpe Diem_ 's things, plus sound equipment and instruments. Jehan had a handycam and was recording every detail.

"Come on, Joly. Move your lazy ass, Marius needs help with that box." Joly glared at him and pushed the camera away with his hand as he approached the freckled man. Jehan followed him, still recording and laughing.

"Boys, let me introduce you to my daughter, Cosette." Everyone stopped to greet the blonde that was standing close to Valjean, that while most of them already knew her, it was the first time they saw her for enough time to talk to her. "She’s going to travel with us during these two months, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." Marius answered quickly. His cheeks blushed when everyone turned to see him.

"Valjean, about that… You know, what we asked you long ago?" Bossuet said, after hugging Cosette.

"Sure, sure. When will she be here?"

"Oh, about half an hour or so."

"Who?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Musichetta. She'll be traveling with us, too." Joly replied with a huge smile.

When they all returned to their activities, Enjolras casually approached Grantaire, who was trying to upload a huge box to the trailer all by himself; Enjolras took the other end of the box and lifted it using the legs. When the box was in place, the blond asked.

"She's not comin'?"

Grantaire stared at him. ”Who?“

"I mean, Joly and Bossuet will bring Musichetta, even Valjean brought his daughter, I don't think anyone really cares if your wife comes too."

"… What wife?"

"How many you've got?" Enjolras asked bitterly.

"None?"

"What? I thought you-"

"Enjolras, if you'd used the phone number I gave you about eight years ago, you'd know that by now."

Grantaire walked away from Enjolras, running a hand through his black curls and shaking his head. The blond buried his face in his hands; he kept making mistakes, one after another, it would be better to stay the hell away from him.

 

* * *

 

The trip to Bakersfield was quick and without incident. Every time their buses lined on the road, Jehan leaned out of a window, holding the handycam and waving with great emotion. Feuilly and Bahorel kept texting each other on the phone all the time, and Bossuet and Courfeyrac had caught the habit of starting flame wars on Twitter to confuse the fans.

Éponine and Cosette, friends since they were little, had taken Musichetta in immediately, and after a stop in Fresno, Cosette had managed to move all her things to the other bus, so they could be together. Somehow between all the fuss, Feuilly changed his baggage to the bunk opposite to Bahorel and, by the night of April 16, just before their first gig, Grantaire and Jehan were sleeping in _Carpe Diem_ 's bus.

"It’s like being in a camping trip." Jehan said as he bounced on the mattress that used to be Cosette's bunk, a smaller version of the official tour poster hanging proudly on the wall. Enjolras leaned with his back to the hallway; Grantaire was in the bunk right across from him.

The next day, with the stage fully installed and almost all the people already there, Enjolras took ‘Red’ in his hands, sighed deeply, and looked at Combeferre for support.

"Just like the old times, brother," his best friend said.

Enjolras smiled and jumped on stage.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Shhh, it’s me." Grantaire whispered in the darkness of the bus. The hand on his hip moved to his ribs while the guitarist leaned on him so Enjolras could hear him. "Do you mind if I…?" he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes a little fast, it’s like the calm before the storm. Please, notice I changed the rating; no tw, though.

**Oakland, California - Show 10**

The trip from Sacramento to Oakland had been a nightmare. As the concert ended, both bands got on the bus after a short meeting with the fans to sign autographs, and embarked to their next stop. Nevertheless, Enjolras wasn’t exhausted at all; the adrenaline he felt onstage affected him during hours after the concert had ended. The blond loved this, loved to sing in front of all those people and loved to hear them singing back.

The concert in Bakersfield had been a success and, although everyone was nervous at first, the audience’d loved the show. “It’s like meeting old friends after years of not seeing each other.” Courfeyrac said hours later, lying on his bunk. They even cheered Feuilly and Marius during his solos on ’21st Century Breakdown’, it was like being home at last.

Oakland was sunny when they arrived at the amphitheater. Some fans were already gathered in the parking lot, so the security team had to intervene to clear their way. Grantaire walked next to Enjolras and stopped him by the arm as soon as they stepped inside the building.

"Got a minute?" he asked, biting his lip. He barely waited for Enjolras to nod before starting to speak. "Look, I know you don’t like me, that’s pretty clear, but I want to propose you something."

Enjolras said nothing for a few seconds, not knowing exactly what to expect from Grantaire. “I’m listening…”

"A truce." he sentenced, lifting his hands defensively. "Only two months. After that, you can hate me all you want, I won’t even try to defend myself."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I don’t hate you…”

"Ah, see? Just like that. So… We have a deal?" Grantaire offered his hand, smiling almost apologetic. Enjolras shook his head slightly, but took the hand anyway. He could do that for two months.

It was in Oakland where Enjolras finally made peace with a terrible realization:  _Sassafras Roots_ was… amazing on stage. All the energy transmitted to the audience was palpable, and even Enjolras had found himself humming a few songs in the past few days. Grantaire was an extraordinary musician and the blond could see exactly why he could charm anyone who listened to him.

They were playing their ninth song when Jehan, who played the keyboard on the right side of the stage, jumped in place during the first chorus, exchanging glances with Grantaire, and ran backstage with a big smile. He took Enjolras and Combeferre by the hand and pulled them towards the stage. Courfeyrac shouted happily and pulled Feuilly and Marius with him; soon, they were all jumping and singing with the music.

Grantaire discarded his guitar behind his back and surrounded Enjolras by the shoulders so he couldn’t flee away. His voice was so incredibly powerful at close range. Enjolras shook his head several times, but it was enough to look at his bandmates to know he was alone: Feuilly and Marius jumped near Joly and Bossuet, who played hard the strings of his bass and guitar respectively; Courfeyrac sang alongside Jehan and even Combeferre had yielded to the intensity of the band. The roar of the crowd when Enjolras sang along with Grantaire the following chorus were deafening.

They stayed with them until the concert ended, singing and dancing to every song; Enjolras decided he liked to see Grantaire on stage, but he _loved_ to share it with him.

 

* * *

 

**Dallas, Texas - Show 16**

The relationship between the members of both bands was, so far, what the fans loved most. Jehan updated his YouTube channel periodically with videos recorded with the handy cam, and received thousands of replicas from the fans on a daily basis, asking for something or challenging them to do certain things; Courfeyrac took the requests very seriously.

"Come on, Jehan. Just once, you coward."

Jehan laughed behind the camera but said nothing. Adam Pritchard, from Greenwood Village, had challenged them to lick someone’s nipple and Courfeyrac had not hesitated a minute to accept the challenge. As soon as he read the comment on a video of Bahorel jumping naked in a beach of Chula Vista, he pointed at Jehan with his index finger and chose him as victim; Jehan couldn’t get over his fit of laughter.

"Come on, Jehan! Defend our honor!" Joly shouted while clapping and raising his fist.

Grantaire walked over Jehan and took the camera from his hands, pushing him gently in front of Courfeyrac; Jehan was still giggling when he removed his t-shirt in front of everyone. Courfeyrac approached him resolutely, placed his hands on Jehan’s sides and ran his tongue over the boy’s right nipple, then kissed it lightly.

All burst out laughing and Jehan had to sit on the floor by the force of his laughter; his eyes were filled with tears as he clutched his stomach with both arms. Enjolras couldn’t help laughing with them.

 

 

After Jehan managed to control his laughter and breathe normally again, he walked shirtless around the room, looking for the piece of clothing missing. Enjolras saw a small ‘R’ on his back, near the right shoulder, and resisted the urge to ask if it was what he thought it was. It wasn’t his business after all.

However, that night as they prepared to sleep on the bus, he couldn’t help but to stare at the tattoo Grantaire had on his right hip. Written in an elegant black font, were the words “Sweet 16” on the tan skin. Enjolras looked up when he heard someone clearing his throat.

"Do you see anything interesting, Enjolras?" Grantaire asked with a raised eyebrow.

Enjolras blushed but pointed at the tattoo. “I wondered what that meant.”

Grantaire looked at his hip and smiled. “Jehan,” he said simply. “I got his back,” he added with a wink and lay down on his bunk.

Enjolras closed his eyes tightly and tried to let that tattoo out of his mind. He was already falling asleep when a hand rested on his hip heavily. He opened his eyes and tried to identify the person standing next to his bunk. “What the-?”

"Shhh, it’s me," Grantaire whispered in the darkness of the bus. The hand on his hip moved to his ribs while the other man leaned on him so Enjolras could hear him. "Do you mind if I…?" he asked, weaving his free hand.

Enjolras didn’t know what he meant but denied the same. Grantaire smiled and climbed next to him, so they were both lying face to face on the small bed. The position was awkward, separated from each other by just a few inches, their legs tangled together and their steady breath mingling in the air between them. Grantaire put an arm around Enjolras’s waist, tracing small circles with his thumb on the blond’s back, very close to the waistband of his pants. Enjolras swallowed.

Grantaire’s eyes remained fixed on Enjolras lips in a silent invitation the musician immediately accepted. He ran his fingers through the long, black hair and pulled him towards him until their lips met. But it wasn’t just that what Grantaire wanted. Trying not to take his mouth off of Enjolras, Grantaire settled on top of him, framing his hips with each of his legs, as he put his hand under Enjolras’s shirt and toyed with one of his nipples. Enjolras moaned inside Grantaire’s mouth, and when they parted, he whispered in his ear. “Watch out, Enj. We don’t want them to hear you, do we?” he added against Enjolras’s neck.

Enjolras shook his head, unable to make sounds now that Grantaire’s hands were so close to his crotch. The blond dropped his hands to cup Grantaire's ass and pulled him down to join their hips. He could feel Grantaire’s cock hard against his thigh and, without warning, he took it over the layers of fabric and squeezed gently; Grantaire growled against his collarbone, nailing his teeth into the delicate skin. Enjolras continued palming him through the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, traing the line of his shaft with eager fingers.

"Two can play this game," Grantaire said before taking the waist of Enjolras’s pants and pulling them to the height of his thighs. He buried his face in Enjolras’s crotch, moving his lips over the bulge still covered by his underwear with devious skill. Grantaire lowered his boxer briefs, kissing every exposed piece of skin, until his tongue reached his cock. He kept mouthing and licking him, then he wrapped his mouth around the head and sucked.

Enjolras moaned loud and his stomach gave such a strong jolt that he was forced to open his eyes. But Grantaire wasn’t there. He moved to the edge of the bed, thinking that perhaps he’d fallen during the hustle, but he wasn’t on the floor either. When he looked up, he saw Grantaire laying in his own bunk, his face to the wall and snoring softly. The blond then looked down at his crotch. “Fuck,” he whispered to discover the bulge in his underwear and a slick of precum wet and sticky against his flushed skin.

Throat dry, he turned to the wall, trying to think of something to help him get rid of his problem, pleading to all existing deities that no one had heard him.

 

* * *

 

**Tampa, Florida - Show 20**

The order on the buses was completely forgotten. Members of both bands kept changing bunks every day and even, on a rare occasion in Woodlands, the girls had started a riot and seized one of the buses, banishing all the men on the other -they had to sleep on the floor and share the beds until they took pity of them and left them come back; due to that, it was always a surprise to find out the next day who was in the nearest bed. However, there was something that remained constant: Grantaire and Jehan always ended in the same bus as Enjolras.

On May 14, Enjolras woke up with Grantaire’s muffled gasp. When he was finally able to open his eyes enough to focus the bunk in front of him, he saw Jehan lying on a bundle of blankets below which should be Grantaire. The redhead kept bouncing on his friend until he turned and knocked him down. Enjolras looked out the small hallway and saw they weren’t the only ones awake; three heads peered from nearby bunks, all with similar confused expressions on the face, like Enjolras.

Jehan stood up, shook the blankets enough to discover Grantaire’s head, and kissed him on the top of it. “Happy birthday, you idiot,” he said loud enough for the whole bus to hear. Grantaire just grunted and turned to cover his head; when he got up later that day, he was still smiling.

While preparing the stage and all the equipment for the concert in Tampa, Enjolras approached Cosette and Musichetta, ensuring that no one saw.

"Hi girls, I need to ask you a favor."

"Don’t worry, Bahorel told us about Grantaire’s birthday, we got it covered," Cosette said, winking. Enjolras nodded, not sure whether to trust them with it or not.

When _Carpe Diem_ reached the backstage after his presentation, they waited until Grantaire and his band took the stage to prepare everything. Éponine took a huge cake from God knew where and put it on a table, along with several beers and snacks that Musichetta and Cosette had gotten. Courfeyrac took a selfie with the stage in the background and tweeted “Waiting for the birthday boy!” His phone didn’t stop ringing for half an hour with the thousands of responses received from the fans.

As Grantaire got off the stage, he was met with hugs and pats on the back; Bahorel poured a barrel of water over him as they would've done with a football coach, and Feuilly handed him a beer as he pushed him towards the couch. Grantaire was smiling, licking the drops falling from his hair near his mouth; the picture was obscene -or maybe that was just Enjolras’s opinion. His hazel eyes were fixed on the cake and he couldn’t help laughing. “That’s for you, I’m fine with beer, thank you very much.”

"Oh, no. You’re the birthday boy."

Enjolras didn’t know what came over him. Maybe it was the image of Grantaire with wet hair, tattoos spread across his bare chest after he took his wet shirt off, or the fact that he’d played the harmonica just a few minutes ago -and Enjolras loved when he played the harmonica-, but the next thing he knew was that he took the cake from the table and threw it all over Grantaire, sending bread and cream everywhere.

The room immediately filled with everyone’s laughter, including Grantaire’s, and the blond just couldn’t bear it anymore. He leaned on Grantaire and wiped his cheek with his tongue, removing all traces of cake. Grantaire growled gravely and grabbed his neck, bringing his lips together in a quick kiss. When they broke away, the whole room clapped and continued laughing; Enjolras had forgotten how to breath.

He’d really missed those lips.

 

* * *

 

**Hershey, Pennsylvania - Show 27**

Enjolras expected that, after the kiss with Grantaire, something changed between them, but nothing happened. The man was still a little evasive with him and didn’t say anything about it. Enjolras was beginning to feel uneasy, not knowing exactly how to talk to him about what they left pending for eight years, but at least now he had a little hope that Grantaire still had feelings for him.

Or so he thought.

Grantaire was very open with his sexuality and he didn’t seemed limited by anything. A few days after his birthday, Enjolras had seen him kissing Jehan on the lips, cuddling on the couch. It wasn’t exactly a deep kiss, just a brush of lips, but Enjolras couldn’t help thinking that it’d been something similar to the kiss they'd shared. By the time the concert in Hershey arrived, he’d already seen him kissing Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Éponine, and Feuilly, all with the same brush of lips that resembled more a caress than a real kiss. Enjolras buried his feelings in some remote place of his chest and decided to focus solely on the music.

"It means nothing, y’ know?" Bossuet said half drunk. He, Combeferre and Enjolras were standing on the balcony of the room they got to sleep that night, tired of the bus’ little beds. "That’s how ‘Aire shows when he’s comfortable with someone, it’s nothing serious. Éponine’s just his friend, you’ve nothing to worry ‘bout."

"I’m not wor-" Enjolras stopped short. "Wait, Éponine?" The truth was he wasn’t exactly worried about her… Should he?

"And it’s not true he’s slept with her, he’s never done it." What the hell was Bossuet talking about? "Not because he doesn’t want to, like, who wouldn’t, but ‘Ponine’s a very smart girl and never mixes that kind of stuff. Though, with you’s different, I’ve seen how she looks at you."

 _What?!_ Enjolras had his mouth wide open, making muffled sounds on the back of his throat and blinking rapidly. Thousands of questions ran through his mind at that second, and he couldn’t articulate at least one. All that made no sense, it had to be a mistake. Éponine? But how…?

Bossuet took a swig of his beer and coughed before speaking. “I mean, you could even bet she likes you, but don’t tell her I said that or she’ll kill me. Anyway, you’ve nothing to worry about, ‘Ferre.”

Wait a minute …

Enjolras turned his head to Combeferre so fast he feared he’ve broken something. His best friend was completely flushed and kept glancing at the bottle in his hands worrying his lower lip.

Éponine and Combeferre? When did that happen and how the hell hadn’t he realized after more than a month traveling with them?! By god, even Bossuet knew! Definitely, he needed to pay more attention to his surroundings.

"I think the only one Grantaire’s slept with is Jehan." Bossuet continued, completely oblivious to Enjolras’ momentary shock. "And I think Bahorel… Once, in Michigan, but I dunno know if that counts ‘cause they were both very drunk… But I’m sure Jehan happened… Anyway it doesn’t matter, the point here is you must go get her, ‘Ferre. ‘Ponine likes you back, I’m sure."

After that, Bossuet patted Combeferre’s shoulder and returned to the room stumbling. Enjolras had his mouth tightened into a thin line, staring at nothing. Beyond the initial shock upon learning that his best friend for 20 years was in love with _Sassafras Roots_ ’ manager, Enjolras had received Bossuet’s words like a bucket of cold water.

  _~ The only one Grantaire’s slept with is Jehan ~_

Now the tattoos and Grantaire’s words explaining their meaning made sense.

Enjolras had no hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should apologise for that scene... It's the first time I write something like that, please don't judge me.
> 
> Oh, and you know I'm a jetaire shipper at heart, so... yeah.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As soon as he stepped into the makeshift room, the first thing he saw was Grantaire drinking from a nearly empty bottle of tequila, wiping the liquid that had slipped down his chin with the back of his hand.
> 
> "What are you doing?" Enjolras asked, unable to resist.
> 
> "Warming up." Grantaire replied with a smirk, his hazel eyes clouded by the alcohol going through his system.
> 
> Half an hour later, the music suddenly stopped, followed by screams and blows that sounded way too close. Enjolras and Combeferre ran to the door to see what was happening and stopped short a few feet from the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, check the tw.

**Hartford, Connecticut - Show 30**

"Boys, I have some… interesting news." Valjean said, crossing his arms over his chest. "It appears that Javert is covering the tour and he requested an interview just before the next show."

All present exchanged glances expectantly until several pairs of eyes fell on Enjolras, awaiting for an answer. Unintentionally, the blond had become something of a leader for all of them, and now they asked him wordlessly to act accordingly. Enjolras knew what he had to do.

"Okay. We’ll do as before, Grantaire and I will go."

"No," the man interrupted lifting the palm of his hand. "I’m afraid… it’s not you he wants to talk to. Is Grantaire."

"What?" Combeferre asked, approaching Valjean. "Only him? That’s ridiculous."

“‘Ferre’s right, Valjean.” Éponine intervened. “This is stupid, why the fuck does he want just one? The tour’s two bands, Enjolras has to be there too. And why did nobody tell me about this shit?”

"Grantaire can’t go all by himself," Jehan said, putting a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. "You have to let at least one of us to join him."

"Unfortunately, that’s not possible. He wants to talk to only him."

"That’s bullshit." Bahorel looked furious.

Enjolras didn’t agree either that Javert interviewed only Grantaire -he had no experience handling Javert, it’d be, in every way possible, an unpleasant experience- but he didn’t think it necessary all the fuss.

"I’ll go," Grantaire said to no one in particular. "No biggie, I can handle this."

A heavy silence fell upon them. Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Feuilly and Marius had expressions of pure confusion, similar to Enjolras’s own; the rest of them were divided between cursing and comforting Grantaire.

"When does he want to see me?" he asked and Éponine and Valjean came to him to discuss the details of the interview.

It'd be the next morning, a day before the concert in Hartford, and Enjolras was nervous.

He trusted Grantaire, of course he did, but he’d been waiting for the time to meet Javert again and make him eat his words. One false move and everything would go to hell. The blond pursed his lips, resisting the urge to beg Grantaire not to ruin everything.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Javert led Grantaire to a small office in the amphitheater where the interview would take place. Éponine walked with her head held high after Grantaire, ignoring Javert’s protests, while all the others awaited in the buses, feeling calmer knowing the young Thénardier would be there, too.

After what seemed like hours, the two returned to the parking lot. Grantaire looked very pale, his breathing was stirred and he kept biting his lower lip as he moved one foot nervously. Éponine, on the other hand, was fuming.

"He’s an idiot!" she yelled, kicking the door of the bus where everyone had gathered. Jehan rose from the bunk where he’d been sitting next to Courfeyrac and ran to Grantaire. He searched his face for a few seconds and took him by the arm.

"I’m taking him out of here," he said firmly. When Bahorel stood with every intention of coming along, Jehan shook his head. "We’re fine, we’ll be back soon."

"What happened?" dared to ask Marius.

Éponine just growled, looking for something to break in her fit of rage. Combeferre approached her cautiously and put a hand on her back. “What happened?”

"That asshole has done his job well," the young woman replied with harsh voice. "He was pushing Grantaire's buttons with nonsense of a hundred years ago. ‘Did you do drugs?’, ‘is it true you were part of a gang of criminals?, ‘did you kidnap Jean Prouvaire?’ I mean, come on!" she ended up raising her arms above her head.

"Kidnap Jehan?" Courfeyrac whispered, stifling a giggle.

"Son of a bitch."

"Grantaire’s… not feeling very well. I tried to calm him down but I think it didn’t work. I hope Jehan can do something."

Enjolras frowned, his eyes fixed on the door through which Grantaire and Jehan had left. That interview didn’t make sense: that he only wanted to see Grantaire, questions focused completely on lies? Javert could do better, what was he up to?

Later, the bus door opened again. Grantaire was considerably better, the color had returned to his cheeks and the corners of his mouth lifted into a gesture that looked like a smile, but didn’t let go of Jehan’s hand for any reason. When they passed by Enjolras, Grantaire avoided meeting his eyes, but answered the blond’s question with soft voice.

"Are you okay?"

"Better. I, uhm, I’m sorry…"

"Why are you apologizing?"

"No, it’s just… never mind."

After saying goodnight with pats of empathy, they all returned to their beds to try to sleep before the concert that awaited the next day. Grantaire and Jehan settled together as better as they could in the small bunk; Enjolras tried to ignore the empty feeling in his stomach.

 

* * *

 

 

_There’s a rat in the company,_  
_a bail out on easy street._  
_How the fuck did the working stiff_  
_become so obsolete?_

  
_Hit the lights and bang the drum,_  
_and let your flag unfold._  
_‘Cause history will prove itself_  
_in the halls of justice and lost souls._

  
_It’s 99 revolutions tonight!_  
_It’s 9, 9 to one._  
_To one!_

 

Enjolras raised ‘Red’ with his right hand in a kind of tribute to a God he didn’t believe in. The reflectors tore flashes of light from the surface of the Fender Stratocaster and the roar of the people echoed strongly in Enjolras’s chest.

He dismissed the crowd putting a hand on his heart and taking a bow with his accomplices of music. With a last look at the audience, he walked to the backstage and went to the section where _Sassafras Roots_ was already preparing to go out.

As soon as he stepped into the makeshift room, the first thing he saw was Grantaire drinking from a nearly empty bottle of tequila, wiping the liquid that had slipped down his chin with the back of his hand.

"What are you doing?" Enjolras asked, unable to resist.

"Warming up." Grantaire replied with a smirk, his hazel eyes clouded by the alcohol going through his system.

"Come on, it’s time," Bossuet insisted, handing him the guitar and pushing him to the door. Grantaire tripped over before leaving and Cosette and Musichetta exchanged worried glances.

Half an hour later, the music suddenly stopped, followed by screams and loud blows that sounded way too close. Enjolras and Combeferre ran to the door to see what was happening and stopped short a few feet from the stage.

 

Most of the audience had jumped on stage and was in the middle of a mud fight with the members of the band. Security guards ran toward them, trying to impose order and to safeguard the musicians, but it was difficult with the slippery floor.

"Stay inside." Enjolras said, putting a hand on Cosette’s arm who was trying to see over his shoulder.

Everything was out of control. People threw mud everywhere, there was broken glass on the floor and Enjolras had to protect himself of some objects flying through the air. Grantaire was on the floor, a young man sitting on his lap preventing him from standing up and trying to snatch the guitar away. Enjolras ran forward, dodging a couple of teenagers who tried to hug him, and took the young man by the arms to get him away from Grantaire. A security guard came to his aid, putting him and Grantaire safely away from fans who were throwing objects on stage.

"Let me go, I’m the drummer!" Bahorel shouted from the other end. An even bigger guard was grabbing his torso, trying to make him go off the stage.

"Yes, of course. Everyone says that."

Enjolras saw Bahorel raising his elbow to hit the guard in the nose. Two other policemen ran towards him and subjected him among the three. It wasn’t until Éponine approached them, shouting and waving her arms wildly, that they left him free. When the drummer came backstage, he had a missing tooth.

 

* * *

 

"Care to explain what the hell happened out there?" Enjolras cried, before Éponine and Valjean could say something. "Why the fuck did you start a mud fight?!"

"We didn’t start it, Grantaire-"

"What?" Enjolras turned to watch the man. Grantaire had a large bruise on his left cheek, and was holding a bag of ice near his lips. "What’s wrong with you? What were you thinking? Why- why did you attack the audience?!"

"I didn’t attack anyone! Those fools threw a mud ball on stage, the only thing I did was return it."

"You’re an idiot, you shouldn’t have played so drunk."

"What happened out there wasn’t our fault," Joly intervened, applying pressure on the stock of ice Bossuet had on his side. "People just went crazy."

"Yes, and it has nothing to do with Grantaire being drunk, calm down a little." Bahorel looked into a mirror he’d borrowed from Cosette, assessing the damage in his teeth.

"Oh, of course it has nothing to do with it. How do you expect me to believe that?"

"'Cause I’ve been drunk on stage during the whole damn tour, asshole. And it’s the first time something like this happens, isn’t it?"

Enjolras was astonished. He stared incredulously at Grantaire who was clenching his fists and managed to seem _offended_ ; that only infuriated the blond even more. “You’re an irresponsible good for nothing that doesn't deserve the place he’s in.” he spat without thinking.

The whole room was silent, Combeferre was the only one who dared to speak. “Enjolras, that wasn’t-“

"What, are you going to tell me it’s not true? I gave my life for this band. He just wrote a song about what, masturbation?" He spoke to Grantaire then. "You have no idea what it is to work hard to get something. It’s easy for you to play the artist and stand on that stage without any respect for what it represents. Why did you drink before the show?!"

"This is the only way I can get up there without feeling like I’m drowning!" Enjolras swallowed hard. "You don’t know what music means to me, you arrogant dickhead. But every time I have to face the public, I can’t, okay? Someone as wonderful as you would never understand the alcohol is the only thing that gives me courage to stand in front of all those people and play."

Bahorel stopped at Grantaire’s side, trying to soothe him with a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it away. “Hey, relax-“

"And you know what?" Grantaire continued, throwing the bag of ice on the floor between him and Enjolras. "You’re right, I’m good for nothing. But let me tell you something. None of this is worth the sacrifice you’re doing, people won't listen to a bunch of idiots with beautiful voices and a low ability to play a guitar." He took a few steps toward the door and spoke to Enjolras one last time. "You better swallow your pride, Enjy, or you’re gonna choke on it. I know I’m not worthy of such magnanimous stage, I’m not the one, I got no pride."

With that last statement, Grantaire walked to the busses, his old green Gibson Les Paul Junior hanging on his back, but didn’t go inside any of them. He didn’t sleep in his bunk that night, and no one knew where he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: 99 Revolutions


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just the two of us for a long time… until he met Viviene.”
> 
> "The girl he was going to marry with."
> 
> "That’s her."
> 
> Enjolras unfolded the backstage pass over and over again between his hands, looking for the courage to ask what had tormented him for eight years. He breathed deeply and said, “Did he love her?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I’m so sorry it took this long! Please forgive me. For [Sami](http://lifeofthewickedwitch.tumblr.com), not only because of the super awesome graphic, but because she had to put up with all my shit regarding this chapter.

**Camden, New Jersey - Show 31**

Grantaire didn't appear during the whole night and nobody, not even Jehan, had any idea where he could be. The group was calling him to his cellphone, waiting for an answer, but getting none. By 3 pm the next day while parked outside the amphitheater, they just hoped he was safe.

Jehan kept biting his lip, looking around hoping to see Grantaire walking by. Courfeyrac approached him and held him by the shoulders; Jehan didn't calm down. "When he's back, I will kill him", he said with faltering voice. "I’ll make him swallow that damn harmonica... That miserable, selfish son of a-"

"Ok, ok." Courfeyrac interrupted him. "Try to calm down, okay? I’m sure he'll be back before the concert begins. Still have a few hours."

"- I'll hit him so hard he'll forget his own name."

Enjolras looked at his phone. He was the only one who hadn't try to locate the cynic, but he had no idea what to say. _I’m sorry_? He had to admit the words he'd chosen hadn't been correct, but still believed that Grantaire had to put more of his part.  _Come back_? Sure he wanted to see him, to know he was well and try to finish the tour in the best way possible, but Grantaire wouldn't return just because he asked, not after what he'd said.  _I miss you_? … No, that was definitely out of question. He put the device back in his pants and continued tuning his guitar, occasionally looking at the door.

 

Grantaire hadn't returned by the time the concert started. The cries of the people could be heard behind the scenes, but _Carpe Diem_ wasn't ready to come out.

"We can't play without Grantaire, he's the singer," Bossuet said, moving his foot back and forth.

"Jehan could sing? You can't cancel the concert, people are expecting you, guys."

"What? They all come to see you. We only played nice music to listen to while they go back to their cars."

"Maybe you could replace Grantaire, Bahorel. You're starting to talk like him."

Éponine stood up with the hands on her waist. “Go,” she said to Combeferre. “The audience is waiting, we’ll see how we managed.”

Combeferre nodded, took her hand and gave her a soft squeeze. Éponine smiled sadly and kissed him on the cheek before pushing him toward the door. Enjolras, Feuilly, Courfeyrac and Marius followed him in silence.

Enjolras was very unfocused throughout his presentation. He accidentally hit and knocked down the microphone during _Working Class Hero_ and forgot a piece of the lyrics of _Know Your Enemy_  -fortunately, the audience thought he was leaving the gap for them to sing along and the mishap happened without much problem. They said goodbye to the crowd as they always did and practically ran backstage. Enjolras couldn't help asking.

"News about Grantaire?" he said, a little hectic.

"The mighty god Apollo descends from on high to mingle with the mortals."

Enjolras turned quickly. Grantaire was standing near the door, pressing a bloodstained handkerchief to his nose. The marks under his eyes were noticeably darker and his bruised cheekbone was an intense greenish purple. Out of that, he seemed completely unharmed. Enjolras cleared his throat. He wanted to ask where the hell had he gotten and why he didn't answer the phone. “You’re back,” was all he allowed himself to say.

"Like you care…" he muttered and took a guitar, a black Fender Telecaster that Enjolras hadn't seen before.

"That’s not your guitar," he said. _Enjolras, why do you keep talking?_

"Oh, really? Thank you for noticing."

"The other had a small... accident. Grantaire broke-" Joly intervened, but Grantaire stopped him mid-sentence.

"Leave it, Joly. He doesn't care. Now if you excuse me," he said addressing Enjolras, "I have to go to dishonor the God of punk-rock with my nonsense lyrics."

He walked toward the door, followed by Bahorel, Joly and Bossuet. Jehan was behind them frowning and rubbing the knuckles of his right hand that were completely sore.

 

* * *

 

**Wantagh, New York - Show 32**

Grantaire was silent throughout the journey to Wantagh. He remained lying on his bunk guitar in hand, playing random notes. Jehan didn't talk to him, as far as Enjolras could see, but he found the young man staring at Grantaire's nose with some regret. During a stop on the way, Valjean and Éponine met with them to talk about something important.

"You should ask for an apology." Valjean began. "What happened in Hartford is intolerable and can not happen again. Stakes are high, Éponine and I believe it is best for everyone."

"But… an apology wouldn't be like accepting we did something wrong?" Bossuet asked.

"Technically yes, but-"

"Forget it, won't do it."

"Bahorel, you have to understand that-"

"You heard him, we won't do it." Grantaire stood far away, out of the whole group. "You’re not our manager, so the answer is no."

"Grantaire." Éponine approached him with caution. "You of all people need that apology, your reputation is at stake."

"What reputation, Éponine? Nothing left to save."

"Uhm, excuse me…" Marius raised his voice, watching his cellphone with a frown. "If we are just discussing this… how is that _Sassafras Roots_ already apologized on social media?"

"What?" The five band members strode to where Marius was, practically snatching the phone from his hands. Enjolras pulled out his iPhone and checked Twitter.

It was true. The official account of _Sassafras Roots_ had tweeted an apology over three hours ago, almost immediately after the last concert. Enjolras then checked _Carpe Diem_ 's account. They" had also apologized, but in a tone that made it clear that they hadn't had anything to do with it. Enjolras didn't like where this was going. 

"Dude, what the fuck?" Bahorel asked. 

"It was the best..." 

"For who? Not me, let me tell you." Grantaire pulled out his own phone and wrote something quickly. "Next time, consult it with us or you're fired," he just said and left the bus.

Enjolras looked at his phone. There was a new tweet on Grantaire's virtually inactive account:

 

                                                                          

 

* * *

 

They rented four rooms in the Jones Beach Hotel in Wantagh to sleep before the concert. After Grantaire's tweet, everyone was pretty upset. People talked about Grantaire's addiction and there were rumors he'd go to rehab; many supported him, many other disapproved his behavior. Enjolras was wondering at what point everything had gone to hell.

He went to the balcony of the room he shared with Grantaire, Jehan, Courfeyrac and Combeferre and took something out of his jacket pocket. It was Grantaire's backstage pass, that in which he'd written his number many years ago. He ran a finger along the stylized ‘R’ and turned it in his hands a bit. He was so deep in thought he didn't hear the footsteps behind him.

"That was a great concert," Jehan said, pointing at the pass.

"You were there?"

"Oh, yes. My first concert, Grantaire took me as a birthday gift. He didn't shut up about you and when it came out you'll be in Minneapolis, he saved every penny so we could go. Should have seen his face when they announced tickets would be at low price. Was the greatest gift of all."

"It was the least we could do. Was thank to the fans we had the opportunity to play in a big arena."

After that shot to fame in 2004, _Carpe Diem_ went from playing in small clubs and seedy bars, to appear in sizable stadiums. Enjolras had insisted the tickets remain at the price at which they sold them when they were just beginning to get a place in the industry, and that had made possible that more people had access to them. _Carpe Diem_ lost a lot of money, they had to pay for almost everything from their own pockets, but it was worth it, none of them regretted it.

"Since- since when you’re with Grantaire?" he asked, feigning indifference.

Jehan smiled, giving him the courtesy of not calling him out on his lousy acting. “Years,” he said, tangling the tip of his hair on his index finger. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”

"Friends? I thought you-"

"No, not anymore. My 17 year old self was head over heels for him, but that was long ago."

"Was it when you got the tattoos?" Enjolras said helplessly. Jehan looked at him with some doubt but still smiling, encouraging him to develop his question. "The tattoo on your back … And his on the hip."

"Ah, those. Yeah, we got the nicknames then." He took a quick glance into the room to confirm Grantaire's head was still under the covers and continued. "Grantaire and I met when I had just turned 16; he was 21 and we were neighbors. We became friends immediately and we spent all the time together." He stared at nothing for a moment and Enjolras waited, anxiety settling in his stomach. "Just after I turned 17, Montparnasse…" Jehan squeezed his lips. His hands shook slightly and he had to breath deeply to continue. "Well, he… Uhm… Grantaire and I went through a very difficult time… and when we could recover a little, run away from home and moved to Minneapolis."

Enjolras squinted. “That is what Javert meant” he said, ignoring for now the mention of that name completely foreign to him. “According to Éponine, he asked Grantaire if it was true he'd kidnapped you.”

"Yeah... I guess a 22 year-old on the run with a underage boy didn't seem reliable. Still don't understand how he discovered it, though. Very few know about it."

"Well, as far as I know, he wanted to be a cop but never got the license."

Jehan snorted. "He'd be good at it."

They stayed outside for a little while, both enjoying the fresh air on their faces. Jehan was an interesting charachter, easy to talk to and always trying to keep the spirit up. Enjolras had thought he'd say something about what happened with Grantaire, but he didn't. After a moment of comfortable silence, Enjolras asked, "Your parents didn't look up for you?"

"Nah, I was already dead for them," Jehan said without more hesitation, as if it were nothing. After a brief pause he added. "The first thing I did when we got to Minneapolis was to drag Grantaire to a tattoo shop to see how this enormous dude carved an ‘R’ on my back. Y'know, the sound in French." Enjolras smirked. He still remembered how he had known that singular nickname. It had taken him at least five minutes to stop laughing for the bad pun. "He wanted something mine, too" Jehan continued. "But apparently ‘Jehan’ was too simple. After a while he said 'Old days are fine, but are left so far behind… But you will always be my sweet 16' and that was it. It was just the two of us for a long time… until he met Viviene.”

"The girl he was going to marry."

"That’s her."

Enjolras unfolded the backstage pass over and over again between his hands, looking for the courage to ask what had tormented him for eight years. He took a deep breathe and said, “Did he love her?”

"A lot, I hadn't seen him so happy in a long time," Jehan replied bluntly; Enjolras considered the option to retrace his steps and not hear the rest. "But after he met you, their relationship just didn't feel right. They broke up like a week after you left Minnesota."

"Oh…" What was the right thing to say in such cases? On one side, he was happy. Grantaire really had had feelings for him, something that was real at least then; but a part of him was screaming that he should feel guilty. Not only he'd somehow ruined the relationship Grantaire had with that girl, but had also ignored him for eight years due to his lack of guts to make a damn call. Jehan seemed to read his thoughts.

"It’s more than what you think, you know? But that's something he should tell you himself." He added before Enjolras could ask what he meant. "Why did you never call, by the way?" he asked in a sweet voice.

"I thought he was getting married, why the hell would I want to call him?"

"Right… But he's not getting married now, is he? I don't know what’s stopping you."

Jehan returned to the room, leaving Enjolras alone in the balcony. He approached the bed where Grantaire was and sat on it, placing a hand on the lump where the other man's shoulder should be. A head of tangled curls peeked out the sheets and, after exchanging a few words with Jehan, Grantaire lifted the covers and allowed the man to nestle beside him. Enjolras admired the ease with which they moved around each other, with the confidence that comes with the years of being friends.

Jehan was right.

What was stopping him now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on my new [fanfic blog](http://fanficlicious.tumblr.com/) :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Now, at age 30, Enjolras sings in favor of a marginalized group of which he has not the slightest idea. He classifies himself as part of the 99%, when it is evident that his whole life has enjoyed the privileges of being the son of an important and well known Congressman, and encourages young people to a cycle of violence that will only end with their future and their lives. Definitely, a bad example for this society._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should stop apologizing for the delay, but... sorry?
> 
>  ** _tw:_** mentions of alcoholism, drug addiction, murder and past child abuse. It's very lightly, but it could trigger someone. Javert's review is a little bit heavy (or so I think since is there where those tw -except for the last one- appear), please consider it.

**New York City, New York - Show 33**

Enjolras had forgotten the last time he was in New York. Four years, maybe a little more. How he'd like to have more time to explore the city. New York had always been somehow intimidating, with its huge skyscrapers and crowds moving at high speed through the streets. But it always received him like the prodigal son, ready to captivate and be captivated.

But this time, however, it reproached him the years of neglect with terrible news. They had barely arrived when Valjean got a call: Javert had posted his review of the concert in Hartford. The agent opened his laptop and read the article aloud for the group at large, the guys gathered in one of the buses and squeezing in front of him.

"'The night of May 27, was carried out the only concert in Connecticut as part of the so -unjustly- praised _Sweet Children Tour_ , that is approaching to its last dates.'"

 

 _I met **Grantaire** , leader of _ **Sassafras Roots** _, at the XFINITY Theatre to perform the interview presented below. It was a surprise what I found there._

 _The 33-year-old singer and songwriter, originally from Minnesota, has been a sensation for all age groups since he started in music roughly five years ago. His first studio album,_ **Burnout** _(2009), rose to fame with lyrics charged of pessimism and strong references to alcoholism and drug addiction -both practiced by the young man until this day- that, inexplicably, had a noticeable impact on the public. But Grantaire's past can be linked to this nihilist approach to music, even more than what he lets on, and can be traced to his teenage years._

 _Rumors that he was a member of a famous group of criminals are strong, although no one has managed to present any convincing evidence of  his participation in unlawful acts. It is also widely known that he maintains a codependent relationship with **Jean Prouvaire** , founding member of _Sassafras Roots _, and who is suspected of suffering from a severe case of Stockholm syndrome after Grantaire separated him from his family at the age of 17 years old, under suspicious circumstances, including, among other things, the murder of Grantaire's former best friend._

_However, none of these accusations were clarified by the musician when addressed to him before his presentation at Hartford, where he jumped on stage noticeably intoxicated, causing what, until now, has been one of the most horrific displays of violence against the audience witnessed by this noble industry. W_ _hen I, personally, confronted him about his dark past, Grantaire avoided eye-contact at all moment, pulling insistently at the fabric of his shirt and waving his foot nervously, all of them obvious signs of a liar._

_Should we allow these people to have access to the fragile and malleable minds of our teenagers? The answer is a resounding 'no'. And as proof jumps the pathetic excuse of a concert held in Connecticut, which is now known by the public as "The Mudstock", a nickname it earned after the "musicians" initiate a mud fight with the audience, jeopardizing the safety of the attendees when the aformetioned disturbance escalated to inimaginable proportions._

_But let's talk about what was the presentation in itself. For all of those unfamiliar with the mechanics of the tour, let me make a short summary:_ **Carpe Diem** _comes out first, playing a set of 15 songs, and leaves the stage. It follows the band from Minnesota with 20 songs, ending the show._ **99 Revolutions** _, a song that gives name to_ Carpe Diem _'s latest album, released earlier this year,_ _and first single from it, closes with force the presentation of the Californians. The audience sings each verse with emotion, cheers during the guitar solos, and has the audacity to claim it to be an anthem, the song of the lower classes, the voice of the 99%. They could not be more wrong._

 _ **Enjolras** , vocalist and lyricist of _Carpe Diem _, grew up in Hidden Hills, California during the 80’s. He is the only son of a wealthy couple and attended the best schools until he turned 20, when he moved to Oakland after deciding to leave university -where he was pursuing a major in Sociology- to devote himself exclusively to music._ _Now, at the age of 30, Enjolras sings in favor of a marginalized group of which he has not the slightest idea of. He classifies himself as part of the 99%, when it is evident that his whole life has enjoyed the privileges of being the son of an important and well known Congressman, and encourages young people to a cycle of violence that will only end with their future and, ultimately, their lives. Definitely, a bad example for this society._

 _But then, you may wonder, why are these two men with_ _opposed aspirations as they are_ _traveling together around the country? Now that_ Carpe Diem _'s contract with_ **ABC Music** _is about to be canceled, Enjolras boldly drew on to his childhood sweetheart, who happens to be shining on top of the Billboard charts. The result: a clever ploy to catch unsuspecting fans._ _Seeing indubitable talent wasted on a childs play because of a little affair between a rich boy and a drug addict had never been more painful. Take **Combeferre** , for example, who could now excel as a university professor, if only hadn't he abandoned his true vocation ten years ago; or **Feuilly** , a proud manufacturer of fans that contributed to the economy from the ground; without mentioning **Joly** , who had a promising future in the medical field._

 _Ending these gangs has become a priority. Men on their thirties playing musicians who disguise themselves as teenagers and only serve to usurp the place of true artists, with all that the word represents. I invite you, readers, to reflect on what your children_ _hear_ _today and I ask you, beg you not to allow such people to take our youth away from the path of law and righteousness._

 

The rest of the article was a detailed description of the incident at Hartford, leaving quite clear that was their fault, specifically Grantaire's, and calling on the authorities to take the matter in hand and arrest them immediately. Enjolras was numb, digging his nails into his hand tightly and breathing heavily. Definitely, none of them were mentally prepared for that.

"... What?" Éponine was the first to react. "What... what the fuck is that? I can't believe it..." After a pause, she went to Grantaire. "And you! What the hell is he talking about? A murder! Who-"

"I really don't wanna talk about it, 'Ponine..."

"We have to talk about it, why didn't you tell me-"

"Not now, Éponine!"

"That's not a review," said Feuilly, fists clenched and unable to control himself. "It's a personal attack, completely subjective. He's sure he knows all of our lives. Who does he think he is to come and tell us what to do? He has not a fucking idea what was it like to work in that factory... 'Proud manufacturer of fans', what an asshole... "

"This is bad," Valjean stepped in, closing the laptop and pulling out his phone. "If this 'review' somehow affects the closing of the tour, the label will have the perfect excuse to cancel the contract."

"They can't do that! What happened to the previous concerts? Oakland!, Hershey! People loved them!"

"Welcome to the music business, Marius," grumbled Grantaire, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Few things in life are as clear as the fact that this is about money. You sell, you are useful; you don't sell, you better go bouncing."

"Will you shut up? It's not over yet. We'll play as long as people want us to."

"C'mon, Enjy. Soon you'll realize these people don't give a damn 'bout what happens to us- uh... to you. Bands come and go all the time, they'll cry a day or two, but in less than you think, they're gonna be loving and dying for someone else."

Before Enjolras could spit an answer, Valjean interrupted. "Guys, please. Enjolras is right, this isn't over. I'll go back to California and speak with the management team. Éponine, can you take care of everything around here?"

"Leave it all to me."

"Very well. Cosette, pack your things, we leave in 20 minutes."

"No!" Marius and Cosette shouted at the same time.

"I have to stay, dad. I..." Without warning, the blonde ran to Enjolras, dodging legs and hands of those who were sitting on the floor, and grabbed his arm tightly. "I manage _Carpe Diem_ 's social networks, I have to stay here with them, they need me."

"You really don't have to- Ouch!" Enjolras complained after Cosette pinched him mercilessly. "I mean, yes, she should stay..."

Valjean watched everyone with narrowed eyes. Enjolras first, then Marius, and Cosette next. "Fine. But you all better take care of her." That said, he began to pack his things and left to California, with the promise he would keep them informed of the decision from the label.

 

After Valjean left, the atmosphere became tense. Enjolras avoided talking to them, particularly Grantaire, afraid to yell something he may regret later. He'd also refused to know about public reactions; after Javert wrote that, it was almost impossible that people were on their side. He couldn't even demand him to retract what he'd written; Enjolras knew deep inside that each one of those words were true, perhaps not in the sense that he'd said them, but now it was clear that the past he and Grantaire had tried to flee away from had come back to wind up what they had achieved. For the first time in many years, he was afraid to go on stage.

"Are you okay?" Combeferre asked sitting down beside him on the floor. Enjolras had taken refuge behind a pile of boxes and other things on the side of the stage; obviously  it had to be Combeferre the one to find him.

"I think I need a drink."

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't... But at least I'd have something to throw up. Hate this sickness," he mumbled miserably.

Combeferre patted him on the back, waiting for him to calm down a little. Enjolras buried his head between his knees; he felt pathetic. He was a grown man, he was supposed to face his fears. _Stop whining and act like a man_ , said the voice of his stepfather in the back of his head, _fear's for the weak_.

"You're not weak," Combeferre told him. He'd almost forgotten he wasn't alone.

"How is that you-?"

"Enjolras, I was _there_ while that man screamed at you. I know his speech almost as well as you do."

"That doesn't reassure me..."

Combeferre put a hand on his shoulder and said, "You know, I always trust we'd get far, Enj. Since the idea of forming a band first crossed your mind, I knew we would make it. If today is the last time we play for an audience, let's do it. That doesn't mean we cannot start over."

Enjolras smiled, "You're right, I don't know... I don't know what I was thinking." Finally, he stood up, holding out his hand to his best friend. "Come on, one last time, if it must be so."

Before going on stage, Grantaire stood beside Enjolras and winked, pushing him out the door gently and nodding to give him courage. Now Enjolras was face to face with the entire city of New York, guitar in hand, and nothing else to fend himself.

 

* * *

 

**Darien, New York - Show 34**

"I knew you'd be here."

Enjolras barely looked up; he knew whose voice was that. He felt a shiver run down his back as he saw Grantaire sitting next to him in what was left of the stage. The two were silent for a while, Grantaire focusing on the cellphone in his hands while biting his lip nervously. And no, Enjolras wasn't looking, shut up.

"So... Um, have you seen Twitter lately?" he said at last, looking askance.

"No. And frankly I don't intend to. We were lucky in New York... and here, apparently. But that doesn't mean people are supporting us."

Although Enjolras had expected a lot of boos as soon as he go on stage, was surprised to find the amphitheater full of fans holding signs and screaming their lungs to cheer them up, while those who were closer to the stage had supportive words painted all over their skin. It was a good sign, Enjolras said to himself, but he didn't want to be overconfident.

"But maybe-"

"Grantaire, no."

"Listen, Combeferre sent me here to show you this, so don't make me look bad, would you?"

With a sigh of resignation, Enjolras took the phone and glanced at it. It was a tweet from Carpe Diem's official fan club that said: _Show your support using the hashtag #Esupport. You can post photos, videos, or whatever you want._

"What's this?"

"See what they've published."

Enjolras clicked on the link and hundreds of messages appeared immediately, showing their support for Enjolras. People who defended him from Javert's accusations, a few other that tweeted verses of his songs that were significant for Enjolras himself, and even there were those who wrote directly to **ABC Music**  asking them to not cancel the contract. Most fans had the letter 'E' painted with marker on their wrist or any other part of their body. Enjolras felt a lump in his throat. He'd never dared to admit it, but he was afraid. For a moment, he really thought that everything would end and he'd have to give up the dream he envisioned being practically a child. He loved music, he could play and write all his life, but if no one was listening, it wouldn't be fulfilling its purpose.

But they were listening. People around the world were listening and fought by his side to keep it alive.

"Wow, this is... I have no words... Wow."

"I know, right? They went apeshit with excitement back there. Haven't stop seeing the pics since we found out about it."

And speaking of photos, there was one in particular that had caught Enjolras's attention. "'Unconditional support to my'... _otp_?" he read aloud before opening the image.

"Wait, don't see that one," Grantaire said, trying to snatch the phone away from Enjolras' hands.

He wasn't fast enough, though. The pic unfolded completely before the blond's eyes, and he couldn't help opening his mouth in amazement. A person covered their face with their arm, leaving their identity completely unknown; on the tanned skin was written in black ink the "equation" _E + R = ♥_ , the letters large enough to cover most of the length of said arm. Enjolras blushed to the ears.

"Enjolras, give that back!"

They say curiosity killed the cat, so when Enjolras noticed a different hashtag accompanying the message (#enjoltaire, whatever that meant), in a completely alien act, he clicked it. Grantaire was still trying to take the phone but stopped mid-motion to stare at the screen: Hundreds and hundreds of messages, perhaps even more than in the original hashtag, appeared in a second, all of them accompanied with pictures of people who had painted the same equation on their skin or clothes. Enjolras wasn't an expert in the language of the younger fans -Courfeyrac took care of that-, but he still managed to understand what they meant, especially when they took the time to mention him and Grantaire directly.

"I think you've seen enough," Grantaire mumbled, finally recovering the phone. He turned slightly, giving his back to Enjolras. "Ignore them, they're... uh, it's not..."

"Are you faving that picture?" Enjolras asked, peering over his shoulder

"NO!"

Enjolras held back the laughter. He was so relieved after seeing the response from the fans that a warm feeling had settled in his chest; he was... happy. It was as if he had regained confidence. There was nothing he couldn't do. Except maybe breathe now that he'd noticed Grantaire's hand was dangerously close to his. It was hard to concentrate with Grantaire inches away from him. He'd dreamed of being this close to the man a couple of times and couldn't get it out of his mind when the adrenaline of being on stage prevented him from sleeping. He imagined how it'd be to trace his body with his hands, to kiss every inch of his skin with his fingers tangled in the black hair. He wondered how it'd feel to have Grantaire's naked body pressed against his own...

"I want to apologize to you," Grantaire stammered suddenly, snapping Enjolras out of his reverie.

"What you... what?" Enjolras asked dumbly, shaking his head to push those suggestive images out of his mind.

"For what I said before? You were right, it's not over yet."

Grantaire sounded sincere, more than Enjolras had ever heard him before. "I'm kinda surprised you changed your mind," he couldn't help say.

"Yeah, well... Sometimes I need to apologize and sometimes I need to admit that I ain't right... Okay, truth is most of the time I should just keep my mouth shut, or only say 'hello', because to be honest I..." Grantaire began babbling, tripping over his own words and waving his arms. Enjolras took his hand and Grantaire stopped immediately. "You're not the man Javert says," Grantaire whispered. "The fans know it as well as I do."

"Thank you."

They were so close Enjolras could see exactly where the color changed in Grantaire's eyes. _Green_ , he thought, _they look green today_. There were still things they needed to talk about, but maybe this would be the only chance they had to be like this, just the two of them. He shifted closer and tentatively joined his lips with Grantaire's.

The other man didn't kiss him back right away, but when he did, he placed a hand firmly on the back of Enjolras's neck, pulling him closer. The movements of their lips were slow, careful against each other, as if trying to burn every detail to memory. But Enjolras needed more, so he lightly bit Grantaire's lower lip in a silent question. Grantaire parted his lips, giving free access to the blond, and gently stroked his cheek; Enjolras couldn't restrain himself from tangling (finally!) his fingers in his black curls, clinging to him and fighting the discomfort from the awkward position to prolong the touch a little longer. Grantaire was the one to break the kiss, smiling almost shyly.

"We better go back, it's getting late," he said gravely.

Enjolras nodded, but instead of standing, he kissed Grantaire again. It was nothing like the kisses they'd shared years ago, when Enjolras thought he'd have a lifetime to explore those lips. If he had learned something from last time, it was that it wouldn't last.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He kissed Jehan’s temple amidst the shouts of approval from the public and sat down in front of the microphone. “Well, uhm, I hope you guys remember this. I hope I remember this…” he mumbled, and then, his eyes fixed in the young man, he added: “So, Jehan, _just say yes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly Enjolras thinking about things. For Sami, who practically thought the entire plot in this chapter.

**Mansfield, Massachusetts - Show 35**

Valjean called the next day with good news. The label had acknowledged all the messages people had sent their way and were actually reconsidering the terms of  _Carpe Diem_ ’s contract. It wasn't safe ground yet, but was the closest they’d been since the whole thing had started.

"Don’t worry, boys", Valjean said on the phone. "Tour’s last dates are completely sold and the audience is loving your partnership with  _Sassafras Roots_. If the label does so much as touch you, the storm will fall upon them."

"You should consider opening your own label." Bossuet said, once they hung up with Valjean. "Like the Beatles did!"

"It's actually a pretty good idea," Courfeyrac said. "I mean, we could do it. A small, independent label... What'd you think?"

"I don't think we have enough resources for it right now, Courf," Combeferre confessed. "But we'll get there."

"Hey, guys, good news keep coming. Valjean sent me this." Éponine turned her laptop so everybody could see the website she was reading. "They published a small article about you, Grantaire. It seems that guy Montparnasse killed himself, you’re clean."

"I can barely contain my happiness," Grantaire grunted. His eyes looked sad and distant, and Enjolras felt a sting of guilt in his stomach. He’d been so focus on his own problems that had forgotten Javert had also written about Grantaire. Enjolras didn't know if people had supported him, or if they’d believed what they read; he didn't know anything! That was something he needed to fix immediately.

He walked up to Grantaire and took his hand. Everybody else turned around, clearing their throats or rolling their eyes, but giving them some space nonetheless. Grantaire squeezed his hand gently, but didn’t raise his head.

"Wanna talk about it?" Enjolras asked.

"Not really. There’s nothing to talk about anyway."

Enjolras nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you before. I was… distracted and-“

"Enjolras, it's fine. It didn’t matter."

"It does matter."

"Just leave it, okay? It's fine."

"Will you ever tell me what happened? Back then with that guy?"

Grantaire lifted his eyes. He looked scared and his voice was slightly broken when he spoke. “Someday," he said. "I promise.”

He leaned closer and placed a small kiss in the corner of Enjolras' mouth. The blond turned his head, kissing him fully on the lips, keeping it chaste and sweet. He liked this, he liked they could finally be like this, touching and kissing, though he wasn't exactly sure what was going on. Were they dating now? Enjolras hoped so.

That night after the concert, Grantaire led him to his own bunk and let him rest between his arms. Enjolras could feel his warm breath against the fair hair of his nape, and smiled every time Grantaire kissed his neck and the soft skin behind his ear. He tightened the grip on Grantaire's arm around his waist and fell asleep with a last contented sigh.

 

"Dating" (yes, the quotation marks were necessary) Grantaire was... complicated, so to speak. It wasn't only that they had different points of view about almost everything, or the fact that they were postponing that very important talk about feelings and what they were expecting of their relationship. No, what was getting on Enjolras' nerves was the constant interruptions and, most importantly, Grantaire's tendency to shut himself off from Enjolras whenever he asked him about his past, or the so many stories of him he hadn't heard yet.

Grantaire always dismissed them, saying they weren't important and asked Enjolras to talk about himself instead. It was flattering and Enjolras particularly enjoyed how Grantaire's eyes lighted up with his words, but... it wasn’t what Enjolras wanted. He didn't want another fan; he wanted a boyfriend, a partner, someone who loved him for who he was, not for what he did. Had he been mistaken about this thing between them?

They hadn't had sex yet. Not that Enjolras was impatient -not to mention it was a little bit difficult in such small beds in a bus full of their closest friends-, but Grantaire was extremely careful with the touches and caresses, he even hesitated to kiss him, as if he were expecting Enjolras to stop him at any time. And when they managed to move on with the awkwardness, something or someone always interrupted them.

They'd been in the middle of a make-out session after a small argument, when Courfeyrac came to them, dragging a very blushed Marius and followed closely by Jehan. Enjolras barely had time to kissed Grantaire goodbye before Courfeyrac took the black-haired man's arm and pulled him away, gesturing animatedly while explaining something in hushed tones.

When Grantaire finally came back, it was almost time for the concert. Enjolras was warming up in the backstage and the mood from earlier was completely gone. Grantaire rubbed his back when he walked past him and smiled sheepishly, but had his own business to take care of. Things weren't as good as Enjolras had thought they would be, and he had no idea of what to do.

 

* * *

 

**Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio - Show 43**

_Dragging my feet to hit the street tonight_  
_to drive along these shit town lights_  
_I’m not growing up, I’m just burning out_  
_and I stepped in line to walk amongst the dead._

Grantaire thanked to the audience. His face brightened up when he was on stage; he was a completely different person. As far as Enjolras knew, Grantaire had stopped drinking excessively before jumping on stage. He still had a drink or two, but it wasn't as bad as before. That day in particular, he looked happy and confident; it was Jehan's birthday.

"As you probably know," he said, "today’s someone's birthday.” The crowd cheered in response, and Grantaire’s smile grew even wider. “C’mon, kid. C’mere,” he said without lifting his lips from the mic, gesturing to Jehan to come closer. Jehan rolled his eyes, muttering “kid” as he walked to the center of the stage. Grantaire surrounded him by the shoulders with his free arm. “Tell me, what’d ya want as a gift? Anything you want.”

"Anything? Will you do anything I ask you?"

"Yep. I can go all crowd surfing if you want." Grantaire made a sudden move, pretending he was really going to jump into the crowd. The people went wild, but he just laughed and shook his finger in denial. They started shouting something Enjolras couldn't fully understand and, at the beginning, it seemed Grantaire neither. He narrowed his eyes, asking the audience to say it again more clearly, and then his mouth formed a little 'oh' when he finally got the message.

“Actually, I really like that song, y’know,” Jehan said from the back.

Grantaire looked at him stunned. "You gotta be kidding me.” Jehan shook his head, smiling from ear to ear. “Damn… Okay, fine,” he said and pushed Jehan back to his place. Then took an acoustic guitar and a chair from the backstage, smiling faintly at Enjolras, and came back to the center. He kissed Jehan’s temple amidst the shouts of approval from the audience and sat down in front of the mic. “Well, uhm, I hope you guys remember this. I hope _I_ remember this…” he mumbled, and then, his eyes fixed in the young man, he added: “So, Jehan,  _just say yes_.”

The amphitheater filled with cheers and cries from the audience; they evidently remembered the song. Grantaire played the opening notes and began to sing.

 _I’m running out of ways to make you see_  
_I want you to stay here beside me_  
_I will not be okay and I will not pretend I am_  
_So just tell me today and take my hand_

Something in the song was oddly familiar to Enjolras. He’d listened to it before, he was sure, just didn’t remember when or where. Courfeyrac, who was standing beside him, jerked in his place and held Enjolras arm tightly.

"Oh my god, I love this song!"

"You do?"

"Yeah! It became really popular a few years ago. This is an acoustic version, though. It's kinda cute… Man, I didn’t know it was theirs!"

 _Just say yes_  
_Just say there’s nothing holding you back_  
_It’s not a test_  
_nor a trick of the mind, only love_

 _Just say yes_  
_'Cause I'm aching and I know you are too_  
_for the touch_  
_of your warm skin as I breathe you in_

 _I can feel your heart beat through my shirt_  
_This was all I wanted, all I want_

Enjolras bit his lip. The song was beautiful, and the lyrics were deep and so... _Grantaire_. Or what he thought was Grantaire. He hated he really didn't know him, didn't know where that song had come from, or what had inspired any of his other lyrics. He felt left out, like he was missing something important.

The song ended and the audience cheered. Jehan walked to Grantaire and hugged him, right there, in front of everybody. Soon the rest of the band joined them, and even Courfeyrac and Marius were part of it at some point. Enjolras stayed where he was; he felt like he had nothing to do there.

 

"Guys, I love that song, why didn’t you play it before?! Forty shows wasted!" Courfeyrac lamented back in the bus, sitting in one of the couches next to Jehan.

"It’s all Grantaire’s fault. He didn’t want to." Joly said, and took another bite of the birthday cake, happy they could actually eat this one.

"It was something private, okay?"

"Private?" Musichetta wanted to know.

"He wrote it for me" replied Jehan, smiling proudly.

Grantaire stirred in his seat, the hand he had around Enjolras’ shoulders hesitantly moving to the blond’s neck and caressing his scalp. Enjolras leaned into the touch. ”Yeah, and was supposed to stay between us, you… dork”

Feuilly cocked an eyebrow. “That’s why you put it in the album-“ 

"He asked me to!"

”- and then released it as a single.”

"Éponine’s idea?"

"People loved it, okay?" the girl defended herself. "Like, really, really loved it. I just did my job."

Enjolras stood up, not saying a word, and went to the front of the bus, away from everyone else. He wished they weren’t in the highway at that moment; he needed some time alone. But, as expected, Grantaire followed him, a worried frown in his tired features.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, I just... needed to... uhm..."

"Is this about the song?"

"No," Enjolras answered quickly, awfully quickly.

"Look, yes, I wrote that song for Jehan, okay? But it happened like a thousand years ago, long before we started the band, and-"

"Why are you giving me explanations? No one asked you to. I just think it’s funny that song’s for your best _friend_.” Enjolras stressed the last word so much, it sounded ridiculous to his own ears. He was acting like a child, he knew it, but couldn’t stop it. And he wasn’t even sure what was exactly what it bothered him so much.

"Wait a minute… Are you jealous?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Yes, you are! You’re jealous I wrote that song for someone else, don’t you?” Enjolras kept his mouth shut. "Dude, we hadn't even met when that happened!"

"I said I'm not jealous! But maybe... maybe this..."

"This  _what_?"

"It's been ten days since we started... this, and we've been yelling at each other most of the time, what does that say to you?"

"You're regretting you kissed me."

"No, but-"

Grantaire covered his face with both hands, pressing the heels over his eyes and breathing deeply. "Enjolras, you seriously need to think about what you want."

"Oh, really? And what do  _you_  want, you know it?"

"I've known for eight years," he answered exasperated. "I thought you'd noticed by now."

Enjolras swallowed hard; that'd felt like a punch in the gut. Grantaire rolled his eyes at him and walked away shaking his head. The bus felt too small, it was suffocating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs: Burnout  
>  Just Say Yes [Snow Patrol]


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire was sitting in a couch at the end of the bus, between Jehan and Courfeyrac, who were making tiny braids in his hair. His eyes were closed and smiled slightly at the things the other two were whispering to his ear. Enjolras walked with firm steps and cleared his throat to get their attention; Grantaire opened one eye and watched him curiously, Jehan and Courfeyrac went silent immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story time with Éponine and Bahorel.

**Noblesville, Indiana - Show 44**

Marius, Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Jehan had been acting weird for a few days now. Both Marius and Jehan spent a lot of time together, Marius mostly talking and Jehan nodding and scribbling fast on a notebook with a dreamy smile. Courfeyrac and Grantaire, on the other hand, practiced together with their instruments, playing over and over the same musical bridge with a few sheets of paper around their feet. That was how Enjolras found out Grantaire not only could play the guitar and the harmonica, he was also pretty good with the keyboard, the bass, the drums and even the ukulele -where the hell had he got an ukulele anyway?!. Enjolras was certainly impressed.

No one really stopped to find out what they were up to. They didn’t get in anyone’s path and were present on the rehearsals, so, whatever they did on their free time was their business and only theirs. It wasn’t until a couple of days after Enjolras and Grantaire’s big fight that they got to know what was going on.

 _Carpe Diem_  was finishing their gig when Courfeyrac took the mic. Enjolras, Combeferre and Feuilly stopped immediately, but Courfeyrac waved his hand to make them go backstage; Marius stood awkwardly in his place, holding his guitar and blushing violently.

"Okay, guys. Before we go and  _Sassafras Roots_  comes out to delight you with their not-as-good-as-ours music, we have a little surprise for yaaa. Well, actually, my man Marius here has little surprise for a special someone.”

Grantaire and Jehan walked past Enjolras and Combeferre, both taking a place on stage and waiting for a sign from Courfeyrac; Grantaire carried two acoustic guitars, while Jehan held a tambourine. Both Bahorel and Bossuet, and even Joly were as clueless as Enjolras, Combeferre and Feuilly.

"So, I know this is not the kind of music you’re used to hear from us," Courfeyrac added. "And it’s not even close to anything any of us have ever played before, BUT, you know how people do stupid things when they’re in love, right? Right."

The audience was completely silent. Some of them looked expectant, waiting for whatever came next with honest interest. The rest, seemed truly offended; there were a few ones who wore such pained expressions on their faces, Enjolras almost found them funny. Anyhow, none of them uttered a word. Courfeyrac handed the microphone to Marius and went to his place, taking one of the guitars Grantaire had brought; Marius looked like a tomato, bright red tinting his cheeks.

"Uhm, I…" the freckled man began.” I wrote this- well, Jehan helped me. And Grantaire. And Courf. They’re all great. And-" Grantaire cleared his throat loudly. "Yes, sorry. So, eh, Cosette? This is for you."

Everybody in the building, including the audience, turned at the same time to look at Cosette, who was standing at the end of the stage with her mouth slightly open. Éponine took her by the shoulders and pushed her until she was a few inches away from the door, where they all could see her; the blonde hair was shining with the intense lights of the amphitheater. Marius waved his hand sheepishly and the song began.

 _Don’t you know she is my favorite girl_  
_I want to run away for days with her_  
_and if you promise not to say a thing_  
_I’m gonna buy that girl a diamond ring_

"Awww, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard!" Musichetta cooed from somewhere behind Enjolras. Even Éponine had a tender smile playing on her lips, her head rested on Combeferre’s shoulder.

 _It’s funny how love takes you by surprise_  
_and I just didn’t know what I was missing ‘til you opened my eyes_  
_Hey maybe we can stay_  
_maybe we can lay like this forever_

Once the song was over, Enjolras heard Bahorel saying: “Valjean’s gonna kill Marius… And Courfeyrac… And Éponine… He’s gonna kill us all!”

Well, he was right about that. They were all so dead.

 

Cosette kissed Marius’ cheek as soon as he got back; the freckled man was smiling wide, too shy to meet the girl’s eyes. Bahorel patted his back on his way to the stage, and Enjolras followed him mindlessly, stopping until he was at the end of it. He stared at Grantaire longingly, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes and his gaze flickering between the man on the stage and the -quite honestly- lovely scene backstage. Marius and Cosette made all that “liking someone” thing look so easy, how did they do it? Someone bumped their shoulder against Enjolras’, bringing him back to reality.

"Oh, my god. Stop pining and do something about it." Éponine stood beside him, arms folded over her chest, looking in the same direction as him.

"I’m not pining", he mumbled. 

"Right. You’re both stubborn, that’s what you are. You’d been literally waiting for years to see each other again and are wasting your time bickering."

"We’re not bickering. It’s just him being completely weird around me, even though I’ve made crystal clear this is okay."

“Why don’t you stop trying to guess what he wants and how he feels and just ask him?”

"When did you become Combeferre?"

"Very funny, blondie. Now make up your mind and fix this, okay?"

"How?! It’s not that simple, you know?"

"He likes you, d’you like him?" Enjolras just looked at her with scared eyes. "Do. You. Like. Him?" she asked again, poking Enjolras’ chest with each word for emphasis.

"Ou- yeah! I… I like him."

"See? It is that simple." Éponine’s expression turned serious all of a sudden. "There’ll always be people making your life hard, Enjolras, even if they like you," she said. "What matters is if you think being with Grantaire it’s worth the risk."

Enjolras didn’t like this. Didn’t like when Combeferre or Éponine or anyone were right about things that messed up with him, because they seemed so logical after they came out of their mouths. He simply nodded, not really sure if there was something he could reply. Éponine threatened him with her index finger.

"If you ruin this, I’ll cut your balls off", she grunted, but was smiling sideways. "After all he did to set this up…"

"What do you mean?"

"Don’t tell Grantaire I told you this but, eh, the tour was kinda his idea."

"What?"

"Yeah."

"... Explain?"

"I heard rumors about your contract being cancelled and somehow my tongue slipped?" She bit said tongue. "Whatever, Grantaire’s first reaction was to ask me if we could help you. And the tour was somehow the easiest way. And ‘easy’ is an understatement, let me tell you. You’ve no idea how hard it is to plan a tour in so little time."

"But why?"

"Enjolras, are you serious?” The blond nodded once. “You know what? I’m off here, or I’ll end up punching that pretty face of yours."

Éponine went back to sit next to Combeferre and started talking incredibly fast, curling her fingers as if trying to resist the urge to kill someone; Enjolras, most likely. Combeferre only smiled and passed an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. Far away were Cosette and Marius, both sharing an armchair and whispering into each other’s ears. Enjolras glanced at Grantaire one last time, and walked away from the stage.

 

* * *

 

**Tinley Park, Illinois - Show 45**

 

Valjean called like twenty minutes after Marius had sung Cosette’s song (how they all had started to refer to it) and was, in fact, furious. The news about the blossoming romance had spread like wildfire, finding what Courfeyrac had named ‘pioneer shippers’, who claimed _mosette_  had been canon since that very first photo of them together on Marius' Instagram at the beginning of the tour.

Enjolras didn’t understand what was going on, or half the words Courfeyrac had said but one thing he did know: he could not be blamed for any of it. And so he informed the manager when the man stopped screaming on speaker that night, both bands gathered backstage.

"For the record, I had no idea Marius was in love with Cosette."

"Yeah, well, none of us is surprised about that." Courfeyrac chuckled. "You’re hopelessly blind."

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are. You haven't noticed the things that had happened in this tour."

"I'll be back there as soon as I can, do you hear me?" Valjean said above Courf's voice. "And then we'll have a few words, Cosette. The same goes for you, Pontmercy."

Éponine clenched a hand over her chest. "He called you 'Pontmercy'", she mouthed, faking surprise. Marius was pale as a sheet, though, completely scared to the bone. Éponine suppressed a snort and shook her head; he was adorable.

Valjean hung up without saying goodbye. "Everything will be fine, Marius, don't worry. He won't hurt you." Cosette said, kissing her boyfriend's cheek.

"I wouldn't count on it", he replied, still staring at the phone, waiting for Valjean to pop out of it and kill him.

"Okay, everybody go to bed. We still have a couple of concerts to focus on." That said, they went to their own bunks; the dark marks under Marius' eyes the next day were a clear sign of how little he'd slept.

~~~

It took Enjolras a few of hours to gather the courage to go talk to Grantaire. He knew what he had to do, but wasn't sure how to do it.  _Just say you're sorry_ , he thought,  _you ran away from home when you were 17, this is nothing compared to that_. Somehow, living in a warehouse with almost nothing to eat for three years seemed a whole lot easier than this at the moment..

Grantaire was sitting in a couch at the end of the bus, between Jehan and Courfeyrac, who were making tiny braids in his hair. His eyes were closed and smiled slightly at the things the other two were whispering to his ear. Enjolras walked with firm steps and cleared his throat to get their attention; Grantaire opened one eye and watched him curiously, Jehan and Courfeyrac went silent immediately.

"Can we talk?" asked Enjolras.

"Uhm, sure…" Grantaire stood up slowly, ignoring the wink from Courfeyrac and guided him to the bunks. They sat facing each other and said nothing for several seconds. "So… What’s up?"

Enjolras raised his head and bit his lip to keep from laughing at the braids that were still on Grantaire’s head. He then focused on his eyes. “I wanted to… Uhm…” Why the hell couldn’t he say it? He took a deep breath and tried again. “The song, Jehan’s song wasn’t… wasn’t…”

"Stop the bus!" Jehan suddenly screamed. He and Courfeyrac were looking out the back window, and beckoned to someone outside the bus. "Grantaire, tell them to stop the bus!"

The two set of feet; Grantaire ran to the front to talk to the driver, while Enjolras approached Courfeyrac and Jehan. “What happened?” he asked.

"Don’t know. The other bus stopped and Feuilly and Bahorel got down and began to to wave their arms frantically. You think someone’s hurt?"

"I hope not…" The bus stopped and Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Jehan, Grantaire, Combeferre and Marius ran to where his friends were. Bahorel was waving his arms in the air, indicating their position even though they weren’t far; Feuilly had a hand on the drummer’s back, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"What happened?" Combeferre asked breathlessly. "Is everyone all right?"

"It’s Musichetta." Feuilly answered. "She fainted and has very low pressure; we have to take her to the doctor."

All entered the bus. Musichetta was laying on one of the couches with one arm covering her eyes. Joly took her free hand tightly and Bossuet rubbed gently the girl’s stomach. Cosette and Éponine were standing near the door, the two holding hands while watched the other three with concern. Combeferre walked straight to the girl, and knelt close to her face, not even trying to move Joly and Bossuet from their place. “How’re you feeling? Any other symptom?” he asked softly.

Combeferre knew a lot about a lot of things. He enjoyed reading complicated books for fun and corrected the dictionary on his free time. They were lucky one of those books were about medicine, because Joly, who had actually studied to be a doctor during a solid couple of years, was completely useless due to worry.

"Nausea", the girl replied through gritted teeth.

"I don’t think it’s serious, but we’ll go to a doctor to be sure, okay?" he ran a hand through the girl’s hair and stood up.

Enjolras saw him approaching Éponine, whispering something in her ear and then cover her mouth to stifle her words. Enjolras wondered if his friend suspected something, maybe it was serious. They’d have to cancel the tour; his friend’s health was more important and- wait. His friend… They were friends, weren’t they? All of them, and they’d been from the first day they met, he realized until now.

"There’s a hospital a few miles from here." Cosette intervened, holding the phone to her ear. "Don’t worry, Chetta, we’ll be there soon."

In less than 20 minutes, they were all sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, except for Enjolras and Grantaire, who stood near the door, barely brushing their shoulders but without exchanging words; Cosette had entered with Musichetta.

When the doctor appeared in the hallway asking for Musichetta’s family, Joly and Bossuet stood up, exchanged glances and Bossuet resumed his place without losing detail while Joly approached the doctor.

"I guess you’re the husband", the middle-aged man said with raised eyebrows.

"Yes… Well, her boyfriend, we’re not… Well, yes, I am."

"Congratulations," said the doctor, addressing the whole room without taking his eyes from Joly. "You’re going to be a dad."

Bossuet squeezed Marius’ hand so hard that it looked like he was about to break his fingers. Joly, on the other hand, seemed to forget how to breathe.

"You were right!" Éponine shouted, hitting not so gently Combeferre’s arm.

"I thought so, yes."

"The first Sweet Children Tour baby!"

"… First?" Grantaire smirked. "Something you want to share with the class, ‘Ponine? How ‘bout you, Cosette?"

That earned him a smack on the back of his head from the two girls; Grantaire just snorted. When no one was looking, he intertwined his fingers with Enjolras’ and winked at him; he didn’t let go of his hand until they were back on the highway.

 

* * *

 

**Milwaukee, Wisconsin - Show 46**

 

"Hey! What’s this?" Feuilly asked, peering into Bahorel’s wallet and taking out a photograph. "Jesus Chris, when did you take this? You had baby face."

Enjolras, Bahorel and Feuilly were unpacking their stuff outside the Marcus Amphitheater, when Bahorel bent over to look for the sticks that had rolled under the bus. Feuilly, who was helping him with the drums and, Enjolras suspected, thought no one was watching, grabbed Bahorel’s ass, encountering his move blocked by the man’s wallet. Enjolras looked away; why was he always in the middle of that kind of awkward situations?

"Give that back." the drummer grunted but Feuilly was faster.

"No, seriously. How old were you?" Feuilly asked, handing Enjolras the photo, so he could take a look at it as well.

Enjolras examined it. Bahorel and Grantaire were there, standing at each of Jehan’s sides, surrounding him by the shoulders. They looked so young, especially Jehan, and the three were shirtless under the intense sunlight. They had body paint all over their arms, chests and faces and smiled openly at the camera, Bahorel sticking his tongue out; Enjolras noticed a tongue piercing that was no longer there in the present.

"Eh… Twenty five-ish", he heard Bahorel say. "2004,  _Carpe Diem_ ’s first concert in Minnesota. We met there."

"No shit." Both Feuilly and Enjolras looked at the photo once again. The bottom of the frame cut out exactly at their waists, but Enjolras could see a wrinkled bandana with  _Carpe Diem_ ’s old logo poking out of Grantaire’s jeans pocket.

Enjolras’ mind was kind of selective when it came to the things it decided to keep to memory. From that day, for example, he remembered how fucking hot the weather was, or that small girl sitting on her father’s shoulders, singing along with them. He remembered Grantaire’s eyes or the warm pressure of his lips over his own, but somehow had forgotten until then the bandana, or the body paint, or the way it spread over his body in irregular patterns after Enjolras traced it with his hands in a heated kiss. He’d forgotten Grantaire’s tattoo over his heart.

"… So I went with them to their place." Bahorel was telling them. "I didn’t live in Minneapolis and they were kind enough to let me crash at their shabby couch."

Feuilly snorted. “Too much trust in so little time, uh?”

"Well, you know, I had plenty of time to get to know Jehan when Grantaire inexplicably disappeared backstage." Enjolras blushed; it’d never occurred to him that Grantaire had gone with someone to that concert. "Anyway, after an entire night smoking pot, talking punk-rock, and fanboying over you guys, we thought about forming our own band. That was the very first time we talked about it.” 

"That’s flattering, I must to say. Thanks."

"Ooh, story time!" Bossuet sing-sang, coming along with Joly and Grantaire. "Did Bahorel tell you he cried when you accepted touring with us?"

"I didn’t cry and I’ll kick your lying ass if you say that again."

"You actually shed some tears there, my friend" Grantaire added, smirking mischievously.

"Oh, well excuse me, mister ‘I’m so agog about traveling with hot blond I haven’t stopped writing silly love so-‘"

Grantaire slapped him so hard on the chest, even the other three winced in surprise. Grantaire was red from the line of his hair to his neck and ears. His eyes met Enjolras for a brief moment before he stormed out of there; Enjolras felt butterflies in the stomach, the corner of his mouth bowing in a hopeful smile.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I just wanted to let you know that," he whispered against his neck, "the bus it's completely empty right now. And they won't notice our absence if we go quietly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe me if I tell you I didn't update sooner because I started writing chapter 10 halfway through this one? Because that’s exactly what happened. Anyway, heart-to-heart talk and sexy times ;)
> 
> tw. Mentions of suicide

**Minneapolis, Minnesota - Last concert**

 

"So, Minneapolis, the last stop."

"Yeah, back to the place where our story began."

"Let's hope it have a musical finale this time, don't you think?" Enjolras said, and the blush on Grantaire's face was worth the amount of times he had looked for an excuse to bring the theme of the songs back.

"Yeah, uh", he cleared his throat. "We'll see about that."

"Okay, lovebirds." Joly and Bossuet walked up to them and entwined their arms with Grantaire's. "You'll have to leave that lovely chat for later, Sassafras Roots urgent meeting now. Like, it's happening in this instant."

"Okay, got it." Grantaire said, freeing his arms. "See ya." he smiled at Enjolras and followed the other two.

Valjean appeared around four, his face was the living expression of anger, enough to scare everyone around, leaving Marius and Cosette completely on their own. By the time the violent movements of hands and shudders of fear ended, Marius barely had time to warm up before going on stage with their peers, and still had his head attached to his shoulders, so it'd resulted better than any of them had expected.

~~~

Grantaire was nervous when he jumped up stage. He kept clenching his fist over and over and, when Enjolras tried to ask him what was going on, he just made a vague gesture with his hand. In the middle of the concert, Grantaire broke the itinerary.

"Hey, Minneapolis! How you doing?" he asked to the audience, who immediately shouted back an answer. "Good? Good, I hope so. Now uh... I have a little surprise here and- we're full of surprises recently, aren't we? Anyway, I want you to be the first ones to hear it."

He started playing the guitar but stopped suddenly mid-motion. "This is for the sexy man there, by the way", he said, pointing at Enjolras. "Come on, Enj, a little smile… No? Well, this is for you."

Enjolras had half expected to be a ballad or an acoustic song, but no. The music was loud and the sound of the guitar and other instruments were almost dirty; if Enjolras didn't pay attention, he could've missed the lyrics.

_I've got some scattered pictures lying on my bedroom floor,_  
 _reminds me of the times we shared,_  
 _that makes me wish you were here._  
 _Now it seems I've forgotten my purpose in this life,_  
 _all the songs have been erased,_  
 _guess I've learned from my mistakes._

_If you got no one,_  
 _and I've got no place to go,_  
 _would it be alright?_  
 _Could it be alright?_

"What's he doing?" Enjolras asked, in a whisper.

Courfeyrac, who had his chin leaning on Enjolras' shoulder, said in a clear voice. "I'm not an expert, but I think he's declaring his love for you... in his particular way."

Grantaire sang of the chorus with his head in Enjolras' direction, his hazel eyes fixed on the blond.

_Open the past and present now and we are there._  
 _Story to tell and I am listening._  
 _Open the past and present, and the future too._

_It's all I've got and I'm giving it to you._  
 _It's all I've got and I'm giving it to you._

Grantaire played the last note with the body and head completely tilted down. The audience applauded loudly, whistling and shouting words Enjolras couldn't make out. Grantaire straightened his back and bit his lip; he didn't wait long before playing the next song.

When Grantaire came down stage, Enjolras strode up to him and kissed him loudly, resting a hand on the nape of his neck. The black Fender Telecaster, still hanging on Grantaire shoulder, pressed between their bodies uncomfortably.

"Uhm, hi?"

"Thank you, I loved it."

Grantaire looked away, hiding his blush from the blond's gaze. "Yeah, well, you asked for a musical finale."

Someone cleared their throat behind them. "I'm sorry to interrupt you," Jehan apologized. "But the guys wanted to know if you're up for a duet? You know, as a goodbye?"

"I had the perfect song, come on." Enjolras said, taking Grantaire's hand and leading him back to the stage.

 

* * *

 

After the show they all went to a nearest bar, the Corinth, where Grantaire used to work before becoming a rock star. The owner offered them the back room, for a private party, before Carpe Diem had to go back to California the next day to talk with  **ABC Music** 's management team about their contract.

“For a successful tour!” Éponine proposed. “46 goddamn cities in two fucking months!”

"For Javert!" Courfeyrac shouted. "Without him, we wouldn't had have such magnificent -and free- advertising!"

They all raised their glasses in a toast. After two months traveling around the country, overcoming all obstacles, including but not limited to an army of inner demons; they deserved to celebrate.

Grantaire sat next to Enjolras on the big table, and rested his hand on the blond’s thigh while they listened to Musichetta complaining about having to drink grape juice instead of wine, like she wanted.

"I know it's hard, sweetie." Bossuet said, stroking her hair. "But just think about that tiny little human growing inside you right now."

"... Oh, god."

"Okay, want some ice cream? We can get you ice cream."

Grantaire's hand rose up his thigh, pressing lightly occasionally, until the heel of his hand brushed his crotch; Enjolras bit his lip. Very slowly, Grantare leaned closer, leaving a line of kisses from his cheek down to his neck.

"I just wanted to let you know that," he whispered against his neck, "the bus it's completely empty right now. And that they won't notice our absence if we go quietly."

Enjolras didn't wait to see if he was joking. He took his hand and pulled him towards the door, glancing briefly at their friends laughing and drinking, totally unaware they had stood up.

They had to avoid the owner on their way out, as well as a few fans that had gathered outside the bar, but managed to reach the bus unseen. Grantaire led Enjolras to his bunk and prompted him to sit down; Enjolras kissed him, chastely at first, but it heated up quickly, licking his way into Grantaire's mouth, moaning when their tongues found each other.

Grantaire lay him down and straddled him, sucking a dark mark on his neck and rubbing his crotch steadily. Enjolras ran a hand down Grantaire's ass and pulled him down, until their hips were flushed together.

"God," the black-haired man grunted, rubbing his prominent erection against Enjolras.

"Fuck me", Enjolras said, moving his hips to meet each of Grantaire's thrusts.

"Eh?"

"Fuck me. Here, before I go."

Grantaire stopped and propped himself up on his hands to stare down at Enjolras, hitting his head hard on the bed above them.

"Ouch..."

Enjolras sighed. "It seemed easier in my dreams..."

"Holy shit, so it was you!" Enjolras tilted his head. "I heard you moaning my name once, but I thought I was dreaming."

"Oh god..." Enjolras blushed violently, and hid his face between his hands, muffling his whimpers when he heard Grantaire giggling; why?!

"Hey, it's okay," he said, lifting his hands and kissing him again. "'s hot".

"No, it's not. I can't believe you heard me. Oh, god... why?"

Grantaire kept kissing him, until his blush was for something else that shame. "You were serious?" he asked, looking him in the eyes.

"About what?"

"About... Uh, fucking you..."

"Oh, that. Yes, I'm serious."

"We have time, you know..."

"I want to do it now... Unless you don't want to?"

"Are you kidding me? I dunno how I survived two months having you in front of me. Most inappropriate boners of my life. Thank god I'm a guitarist, otherwise everyone would've seen my huge-"

"Do you never shut up?"

"Not when I'm nervous."

"There's nothing to be nervous about. This," he said, pressing his palm on the bulge of Grantaire's jeans, "is okay."

Grantaire's breath hitched when the blond started stroking him with strong moves of his fingers, twisting slightly now and then. His callous hands found their way under Enjolras shirt, playing with one of nipples and caressing above his ribs. "Take this off," he ordered, pulling at the hem of the shirt.

Undressing became a challenge given the small space between the beds, but they managed without falling face first on the floor. "Wait here", Enjolras panted, and got up to look into Courfeyrac's bag. "Bingo", he lifted a small bottle of lube and a condom.

"Always prepared", Grantaire laughed, giving Enjolras room to settle on the bed again. Enjolras handed him the lube.

Grantaire's coated fingers teased at his hole, rubbing at the muscles before pushing one digit inside. He prepared him efficiently, smiling every time Enjolras couldn't bite back a load moan after he brushed the bundle of nerves within him with a good aimed thrust of his hand. When he was ready, Grantaire guided his spread legs to rest on his shoulders.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, go on."

He thrust forward, and Enjolras hissed in discomfort. “Sorry”, Grantaire whispered. “Want me to stop?”

"Don’t you dare. It’s just… it’s been a while."

"Ah, don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you."

Enjolras took a moment to slap Grantaire’s forearm lightly, but couldn’t help the wicked grin that spread on his face. “You better.”

"It’s that a challenge?"

"Shut up and move, Grantaire."

He did. It was slow and careful, almost reverently, taking his time to appreciate every inch of the body before him, to fully feel Enjolras, leaving kisses on his jaw, neck and chest. Enjolras mouth was slightly open, gasping for air and pressing his eyes shut. 

He linked his arms behind Grantaire's neck, pulling him down for a kiss that was cut off by a low grunt after Grantaire reached a sensitive spot. At some point, Enjolras felt tears rolling down his face and Grantaire must’ve seen them, because his lips traced the expanse of his temple, kissing the tears away.

“‘Aire”, he gasped. Grantaire hummed against his lips and wrapped a hand around his hardness, stroking in time with his own thrusts. It was too much and not enough at the same time, so Enjolras intertwined his ankles above the small of Grantaire’s back and encouraged him to go faster. Enjolras came with a long low moan, burying his face in Grantaire's collarbone.

"Don’t stop", he stuttered, squeezing his thighs around the other man’s waist.

Grantaire grunted, speeding up his thrusts until he came to a stop, panting heavily right into the blond’s ear. “Oh, fuck” he grasped, pressing his forehead against Enjolras' for a moment before pulling out of him and resting his head above Enjolras' heart. “Jesus, why didn’t we do this before?”

"We were busy arguing…"

"Right. Less of that and more of this, please."

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, trying to catch their breath back between shared kisses.

~~~

"Can I ask you something?" Enjolras asked after a while.

"Sure."

"Why didn't you get marry?"

"Oh, god... Do we really have to talk about that right now?"

"I'll be gone tomorrow and I don't know when we can see each other again. I wanna have this talk with you before that."

Grantaire sighed deeply. "I no longer wanted, I suppose", he said. "There was much more the day I met you, you know? More than... falling in love with you? That's when I realized you were real, and not only the God that had put into words the things I couldn't say."

He shifted in the bed, resting his back on the mattress a little afar from Enjolras. The blond hesitated before coming closer, but when Grantaire hugged him around the waist, he knew the contact was very welcome; he leaned his head on Grantaire's shoulder, where he could have a close view of the other man's profile. 

"Hearing you speak off stage was much better than singing your songs..." Grantaire continued. "And it changed me somehow. It was like... Like coming to believe again, you know? Like... I realized there was still something I wanted to do with my life... And Viviene didn't share my... 'dream' is too optimistic, but I guess you can call it that."

"What do you mean?" he prompted when Grantaire didn't say another word.

"She wanted the life of the perfect housewife. A husband who comes home at six and goes to the children's soccer match on Sundays. That wasn't me. I'd never been but I thought I could pretend for her." He looked down at Enjolras and stroked his cheek gently. "You made me see that it was better to be daring and try what I wanted. So yeah, it was mostly your fault", he said with one-shoulder shrug. "Plus the fact that we weren't meant for each other."

Enjolras smiled sadly. "But you loved her." It wasn't a question, but a clear statement.

"You know, looking back, I guess it wasn't... even... love" he said, and Enjolras could feel the body beneath him tensing up. "Montparnasse... he was my best friend and... after he killed himself in front of Jehan and me, I was... lost."

His voice cracked a little when he next spoke, and Enjolras tightened his grip around his waist. "I felt like it'd been my fault, so I did a lot of stupid things that distracted me from it. And there was Jehan, too, for whom I felt responsible somehow. I wanted someone who take the weight of my own decisions away. And that's what Viviene did" he shrugged. "It was easier let her take control over everything."

"But that wasn't what you needed!" Enjolras shouted, lifting his face to look into Grantaire's eyes. "You needed help, someone who listened to you and made you see it wasn't your fault! You'd been traumatized and the only thing she did was make you act on autopilot at her command.

"And that's what I like you", he kissed his lips. "You're not afraid of telling people how stupid they are. And I need that. Sometimes."

"I could use someone who do the same for me, to be honest."

"Then we have a deal." Grantaire sentenced, pulling him down for another kiss that ended in an intense make-out session. "Enjolras?" he asked when they parted from the lack of air.

"Hmm?"

"Where do we go from here?" he said with a nervous giggle.

"I was kinda expecting you to be my boyfriend?"

"But... are you sure? I mean, you live like at the end of the world."

"It's just a five-hours trip on plane." 

"Yeah but, then what? We'll have another sentimental argument or bitter love... Or we'll yell at brick walls and punching windows made of stone. We both know no one will take the fall-"

"I'll tell you what." Enjolras said, kissing him to shut him up. "Promise me no dead end streets, and I'll guarantee we'll have the road.”

Grantaire's message tone went off, ringing somewhere on the floor. Grantaire fished it out of the tangled of clothes, and snorted. "Courf wants to know if they can come back or we're still doing the do."

Enjolras frowned. "Tell him we're busy, they'll have to wait a little longer, a couple of hours at least.

"You're cruel."

"They have the other bus, they'll be fine."

Enjolras snuggled closer to Grantaire. He was exhausted and the only thing he wanted to do was sleep, but didn’t want to waste the little time he had with Grantaire. 

"Say you’ll stay the night?" Enjolras pleaded against Grantaire’s neck.

"What are you talking about?" he snorted.

"We’re running out of time, Grantaire. Say you’ll stay the night. Please."

He felt Grantaire’s Adam apple bobbing when he swallowed. It was obvious he’d stay, Enjolras knew that, but he needed the reassurance. Grantaire held him closer and kissed his hair; he’d understood what he meant.

"Of course I’ll stay."

"I don’t wanna say goodbye…"

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, just listening to the steady beat of Grantaire’s heart, Enjolras fell asleep; neither of them heard the door opening or the dragging of tired feet when the others came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, guys!! And to all of you who had left a comment or kudos, you're so wonderful and make my day with your awesomeness, I love you all :3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All around Enjolras, his friends hugged each other, saying words of comfort and promises of a reunion that failed completely to reassure them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, short cheesy chapter.

**Minneapolis, Minnesota -  June, 2012**

 

Enjolras woke up the next day clinging to Grantaire. His entire body ached in the best way posible, unlike his neck, which was suffering for the position he’d been sleeping in. He rolled his shoulders carefully, trying not to wake Grantaire up, but a warm hand rested on his neck, rubbing gently and untying the knots in his back. He lifted his head, and was welcomed with a tender smile on Grantaire’s lips.

"Morning", he whispered, his eyes still closed.

"Morning. How long have you been awake?"

"Not much, how you feel?"

"Tired. Everything hurts."

"Let me help you with that."

Grantaire began massaging his back, pressing ever so slightly at the points where the muscles were tight up. When his hand went around his waist, Enjolras jumped slightly; he regretted it the minute he saw Grantaire’s smirk. 

"Are you ticklish?" 

"… No?" 

Too late. 

Grantaire turned them around until Enjolras was beneath him. His hands moved on his waist and torso, causing the blond to squirm, trying to stifle his laughter in the back of his hand. Grantaire sat on the bed, rubbing the tips of his fingers on his hip bones, causing him to moan involuntarily. 

Grantaire lowered his hand down his pale thighs, kissing his neck and grunting when Enjolras tangled his fingers in his hair.

Someone cleared his throat next to their heads. Both turned and saw Combeferre, still in his pajama pants, his hair ruffled by sleep. “Sorry to interrupt you, but we’re already late. Valjean says we’re leaving in an hour.”

Enjolras blushed, pulling at the blankets to cover them better. “Yeah, give me a second?”

"An hour? Grantaire said once Combefere had left. "I think we can work with that."

~~~

They couldn't do anything, really. Everyone was wide awake after Combeferre had passed Valjean's message around, and started gathering their stuff and preparing for the long trip back to California. The bus was a mess and there were things of everyone everywhere ; Feuilly and Cosette came back to their old bunks. An hour later, they walked to the parking lot to say goodbye.

All around Enjolras, his friends hugged each other, saying words of comfort and promises of a reunion that failed completely to reassure them. Musichetta and Cosette were sitting on the stairs of the amphitheater talking, the blonde’s hand resting lightly on Musichetta’s belly. Further, Bahorel surrounded Feuilly by the shoulders and whispered in his ear. Near the buses, Éponine had her head buried in Combeferre’s shoulder and clung to his shirt, refusing to let him go. Courfeyrac and Jehan were taking a picture with their hands joined.

Enjolras fixed his eyes on Grantaire and smiled before kissing him softly on the lips. Enjolras didn’t want to let him go, not again, but he knew it was selfish to ask he follow him back to California. In those two months, Enjolras had learned how important the music was for Grantaire; it was his refuge, the only place where he could be himself without inhibitions. And Enjolras wouldn’t be the one to take that away. Gathering the strength he needed, Enjolras placed a hand behind Grantaire’s head and hugged him, inhaling the scent of his neck, trying to memorize it until the next time.

"Come on, guys! Cheer up!" interrupted Joly. Him and Bossuet were holding hands with Marius. "It’s not like we won’t see each other ever again, right? And yeah, California is like 2000 light years away, but I’m sure we can arrange a meeting or something… right? … Someday?"

"Joly's right," agreed Grantaire, pulling away from Enjolra after kissing his temple. "We could even start to think of the Sweet Children Tour 2.0"

"Yeah, well, you're gonna plan it this time." Éponine grunted, her arm around Combeferre's waist.

Enjolras took off his eyes from the Target Center behind him to look at Grantaire. They’d met here eight years ago; it seemed so far away now. A lot of things had changed ever since, they’d changed: Enjolras wasn't that naive young boy anymore. He still believed in the power of music to change the world -he  _was_   _Carpe Diem_ , it was his life-, but had learned that this was a business and if he wanted to be heard, he had to play by their rules.

That was the mentality with which he began the tour, setting his mind to think he was working to get a contract, nothing else. What he hadn’t expected were the friends he made along the way, or getting to really know Grantaire, dealing face to face with his insecurities, his addictions, his fears. And falling in love with him once again. 

He hadn't expected to discover that Grantaire was in love with him, too. Despite his temper or his obsession to control everything and everyone around him. 

He'd heard once that we like people for their qualities but we love them for their defects; Enjolras had finally understood what they meant by that.

* * *

**Oakland, California - A year later.**

 

"Are you okay?" Combeferre asked.

Enjolras had been staring outside the window, completely lost in thoughts for about an hour now. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine.”

They were sitting in one of the offices of  **Red &Black Records**, the label Enjolras and his bandmates had opened two months ago. After the Sweet Children Tour, they’d got an offer from a commercial label to sign up with them, since their fame had come back to life with renewed power. They had considered, but after a few discussions and Valjean’s help, they’d decided to better found their own firm. It took them almost an entire year to make it real.

“Why are you still here?!” Courfeyrac yelled, entering the office. “You should be at home, packing and planning you’re lovely anniversary date. You should be on your way to Minnesota!”

"I’m not going."

"What? Why?"

"Did you fight again?" Combeferre asked, sitting next to Enjolras.

"No. I talked to him yesterday, he said he was busy and if we could change the day", he shrugged. "It’s not that bad, honestly. We have a lot of work to do here."

"He’s busy? He?" Courfeyrac added. "He’s rather work than a date? With you?"

"Courfeyrac…" Combeferre scolded.

"I mean… Yeah, he surely is busy. Yeah…"

Things with Grantaire were good, if he could say so. Living so far away from each other was hard, harder than any of them had thought, but they were trying. Grantaire suggested moving together six months ago, but neither he nor Enjolras could afford that, having the responsibility of a band. They were sure the others would have supported their decision, but it was selfish not considered them, too. In a few words, they were screwed.

"Listen, I don’t have time to think about this, okay?" He said, ordering his papers. "As I said, we have work to do."

"Enjolras?" Cosette poked her head out of the door. "Dad needs you in the studio. There’s a band in there and he wants to ask your opinion."

"Thank you. See?" he said to his friends. "I have to go."

"We’ll talk about this later." Combeferre threatened, but Enjolras only rolled his eyes.

~~~

He walked into the control room in a wave of the music coming out of a piano. That wasn't the kind of band they were looking for, but they had promised themselves they’ll give a chance to whoever knocked their door.

_Oh ride,_  
 _free ride._  
 _Won’t you take me close to you_

He stood up next to Valjean and folded his arm over his chest. The one on the microphone lifted his face and Enjolras almost choked on his own saliva.

"Grantaire?!"

Said man winked at him and sang again.

_Far away,_  
 _far away._  
 _Waste away tonight._  
 _I’m wearing my heart on a noose_

Enjolras pressed a button to make his voice audible on the other side of the room, cutting off the music. “What are you doing here?! When did you get here?!”

"Hey, sexy."

Behind him, Jehan, Bahorel, Bossuet and Joly waved their hands happily and even Éponine, who Enjolras hadn’t seen until now, said hi from a corner, talking to someone on the phone. The door opened wide and Courfeyrac, Feuilly and Marius entered the studio, followed by Combeferre, who was also on the phone.

"So, you’re all really here." he said, hanging up.

Grantaire and the others came out of the studio, hugging the newcomers and patting their backs. Grantaire walked up to Enjolras and kissed him.

"Can someone explain what’s going on?"

" _Sassafras Roots_  signed up with us", Valjean said, watching the scene with a smile.

"And we’re all moving here, neighbors", Jehan added.

Grantaire hugged Enjolras tightly “Happy one-year anniversary”, he whispered in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who read it, left kudos or comments on this fic! I can't believe is over :( Good thing is, I'm already working on the next part, yay!
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you. See you next time! :D


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